Inner Sam
by KKBELVIS
Summary: The wall has come down. As promised, Sam is left a drooling mess. With the help of Castiel, Dean does the only thing left he can do. If the mountain will not come to Mohammed…
1. Chapter 1

INNER SAM

By: Karen B.

Summary: The wall has come down. As promised, Sam is left a drooling mess. With the help of Castiel, Dean does the only thing left he can do. If the mountain will not come to Mohammed…

Disclaimer: Not the owner. Just a kooky dreamer.

Rated: Sci-fi / oddity adventure.

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Sam was going to die if I didn't bring him out of his head. Out of the nightmare; which was no nightmare at all. So, I begged Castiel and when that didn't work, I choked the angelic bastard out until he reluctantly agreed. If he could zap our entire bodies into another place and time, he sure as there's a stick up his ass, could zap my soul anywhere.

"There are many difficulties here, Dean, I am still against this," Cas warned for the fortieth time.

"I don't care," I said for the forty-first time.

"Do you understand? You and Sam, both, could die in the process."

"I don't care." (Forty-two times.) Breezing past Cas, I sat on my brother's bed. Slipped one hand behind Sam's neck and brought his lolling head upward. Peering into his wide-open and vacant hazel eyes, I tried for a smile. "It's going to be okay. I'm coming for you, Sammy," I whispered. "You hear me? I'm coming for you. Going to get you out of this mess." I lay him back against the pillows and waited for a change. For Sam to blink or twitch. Tell me through telepathy what a jerk I was being for even thinking of this. I got nothing, but more of the same. Sam, staring blankly. His breathing rapid like he'd been running for days, yet he hadn't moved a muscle. It made my flesh crawl. I pulled the blanket higher up over him and ran my hand through his hair. "I won't leave you, Sam. I can fix this," I said with confidence I didn't have, then stood and took one step over, dropping down flat on my back onto my own bed.

Castiel sat next to me. "Dean. I might not be able to bring you back. You could die in your sleep."

"I don't care!" I yelled. (Forty-three.)

"It is not fair to Sam to keep him this way." Cas glanced at Sam then back at me. "Maybe it is time for you to let go, Dean," he spoke the words softly, eyes not leaving mine.

I furrowed my brow. I'd cared for Sammy from the day he was born. Nothing in our lives was ever fair. Wasn't fair we lost our mom, lost our dad - both to a demon. Wasn't fair we were forced to live this life. Breathe this life. Wasn't fair we didn't get to be the cookies and milk, drag the Christmas tree home sort of family. We knew things. Things that most people would never opt to know. Life was a bitch and fair was bullshit. I was sick of fair. Fair wasn't in charge here. I was. Fair could go fuck itself.

I wanted to scream at Cas, but kept calm. "Going after Sam." I stared over at my virtually blind, deaf, mute and unresponsive little brother.

The wall had broken three days ago. Right out of the blue. The whole friggin' wall of Sam came down like a house of cards.

We were next to each other, leaning up against the passenger door of the Impala at a rest stop. Sam was drinking a cup of coffee. A lousy cup of coffee, when suddenly he turned to me. All teary-eyed.

"What's with you?" I pushed off the Impala, coming to stand in front of him.

Sam, he didn't say a word. Was as if he didn't understand what was going on. And then I didn't understand what was going on. His eyes went blank and his coffee cup slipped from his hand, splattering to the ground.

"I..." Sam made a weird gurgle-like sound. "I can't..."

Before I knew what was happening, all his strength drained away and he fell into my arms. Like he was trying to hug me one last time.

"Son of a bitch." I tried to keep him upright. Secure his neck that wobbled like it was broken; at the same time grabbing hold of the rest of Sam's body as he convulsed and contorted against me. I knew this would happen again. Knew that wall woudn't hold forever, but... "Not again. Not another episode, dude." Sam slithered out of my grasp. "Not this soon," I yelled, trying to hold on to his rebelling body. Helpless as Sam hit the ground bucking all over the coffee-splattered pavement. "Sam!" I screamed his name, dropping to my knees. Trying to gain control of him. "Easy. Easy, bro." I rolled him on his side and pressed his back up against the passenger side tire, trying to help hold him steady.

While hell riled inside of Sam, I begged. "Sam, stop. Please." Three minutes. "Sam, stop." Four minutes. "Don't." Four and a half minutes. "Stop it!" Five long minutes past before Sam stopped, turning into a giant lump of nothingness. His face bruised from scrapping against the pavement, much as I tried to buffer him.

"Sam, don't do this. Don't you pull this crap." I traced a finger along his slack mouth, staring into his blank face as the minutes tick-tocked on by. Knowing this episode was different. Knowing Sam was living in hell. "Hold on, Sam. You have to hold on." I took him by the arm and squeezed hard enough to leave a red mark. "Come on." I grit my teeth, digging fingernails into his skin. Desperate for a response. Even a pain-filled one. Sam lay wilted and limp. "Okay. Fine. Have it your way, dude," I growled, trying to keep my voice tough, my sanity in tack.

I'd wrangled Sam into the car. Took some time to get his bendy, relaxed body strapped into the passenger seat.

"Sam?" I brushed his hair away from his face. It creeped me out, knowing behind those unblinking big, round hazel eyes lay hell. And in hell - lay Sam. There was nothing I could do. No hospital to take him to. No miracle cure. I hit the road, keeping a hand pressed to his chest. "We'll deal with this, pal." I kept glancing over. Searching Sam's face. He had to be in there. Had to hear me. Had to come out of it like last time. Several miles down the road, Sam still wasn't in there and he didn't come out. Sam was stone and wood. Cold and stiff. What if he didn't come back to me like last time. What if this was it. What if Sam's last words to me were...were...were...I can't. "Sam!" I screamed as loud as I could, balling my fist and giving his chest a hard thump. "Yes you can, Sam. Yes, you can. And yes! You will!" I bellowed.

I got no response.

There was nothing more to say. Steeling my nerves, I took him to the closest motel room. A motel room designed for Ompa-lumpa's. The wall to wall orange shag, with orange curtains to match swirled around me, making me feel dizzy. I drug Sam across the room. Flopping all two hundred and thirty pounds of him - like a rag doll - onto that bed, and on that bed is where he'd stayed. Melted into the mattress. Immobile. Muscles rigid. Bodily functions involuntary. Every now and again, life-threatening seizures burst through Sam. Legs kicking, arms flailing, back arching so damn violently I was scared to death he'd be torn apart - from the inside out. Sam was alive, but I took no comfort in the mangled twitches of my brother - wouldn't mistake the seizures for life - this was no life for Sam. His body was here - but nobody was home.

As promised, my kid brother was left a drooling, quivering mess.

What were my choices here?

I could have him hooked up to life support - futile measures at keeping him alive. I didn't call that living. Could leave him as he was - I was absolutely not going to sit by and watch Sam die slowly. Wasting away. I could get down on my knees and pray to a God who was on some beach - somewhere. Never worked before. Still wasn't working. God liked his beach too much to leave. I could put a bullet in Sam's head. Then mine. It was at that point I thought of one last ditch.

Maybe I'd watched one too many episodes of Star Trek or the Sci-Fi channel or some shit, but I came up with an idea. An idea Cas said might be, as he put it, 'inconceivable'. But I was willing to put any might be, inconceivable or not, to the test.

If Sam couldn't come to me. I was going to go to Sam.

"Dean." Castiel took me by the shoulders and gave a small shake bringing me out of my thoughts.

I turned from Sam, staring into the angel's worried face. "I'll wake up." I gave Cas a reassuring smile. "And so will Sammy."

"As powerful as I know the soul is...we do not know if that is true."

"Has to be," I said confidently, glancing one more time at Sam. "We've got you here on this side of Oz making sure of that, right?"

"Dean, if you become distracted you will be trapped as well. It will be easy to lose focus. To think you are dreaming. Forget what you are there for. You must stay lucid. Alter what Sam is seeing. Dictate to him what happens next. You have to remember… inside Sam's head, you can do what you want. Go where you want. You will become a part of his memories. A part of his hell. His soul."

"I get it."

"Do you, as you say 'get' that Sam's soul is being depleted with every second he remains trapped inside himself. He will be weak. Not be of much help. You will have to be strong enough for the both of you. Pull the both of you out. Or you will become just as lost - right along side of Sam."

_Better that than any of the other alternatives. Being lost in the labyrinth of my brother's big brain wasn't that bad …I could think of a lot worse places I'd been._

"I get it, Cas." I gripped the bedspread with both hands, fingers trembling. "Send me over the rainbow to munchkin land already," I said softly.

Castiel's lips twitched and he gave the barest glimpse of a smile. "Concentrate, Dean. Keep in control. Stay focused. If you stay in control, you can do this. Otherwise…"

I jerked up off the pillow and grabbed Yacky Doodle by his fugly tie. "I'll get disoriented and it's the big dirt nap. For both me and for Sammy," I stated firmly. "Cas, for the last time - I know." I flopped back to the pillow. "We're wasting time. Time Sam does not have. Let's catch us a tornado, Dorothy."

"I do not understand that reference."

"Beam me down, Scotty."

Castiel cocked his head like an untrained puppy.

"Dude! Put me into Sam's head. Right now."

Cas glared at me like I was sniper-in-the-bell tower-crazy.

"Just do it," I sighed, staring up at a brown stain on the ceiling and going back to gripping the bedspread as if that would keep me grounded in the here and now.

"One more thing, Dean. If you think or feel like you are dreaming, try to remember not all dreams are black and white. The demonic kind always appear in color. It may help you establish where you are. Distinguish between real and unreal. Also, I think if you stay clear headed and listen hard, you can communicate with me. Hear my voice. I can try to direct you. But you must stay present in mind."

"Easy enough," I muttered.

"Think of a word that will let me know when you and Sam are ready to be extricated. Do not say this word out loud, Dean. Just think the word. When you are ready you may speak it aloud, and i will..."

"Beam us up," I said, thinking quickly of a word. "Okay, and the magic word is..." I squinted up at Cas.

Cas stared strangely at me, obviously getting the word. He raised his left hand, two fingers gently touching the center of my forehead, his right hand splayed over my heart. "Deep breath, Dean."

I inhaled.

There was a buzzing in my ears and a pounding in my chest. Felt like I was shrinking away from this world. It kinda scared me.

"Sammy?" My eyes flicked over to the other bed. I wasn't sure what was happening. Felt weird. Floaty. I reached a hand out searching for Sam. It was the only thing I could focus on. Sam. "Sammy," I called out to him again. He wasn't there. I couldn't find him. Feel him. The bed gone. Everything was growing dark and heavy and my hand fell sluggishly at my side.

"Find the wall, Dean. There you will find Sam. Break him free. Bring him back," Castiel chanted as my eyes closed and I sank into deep unconsciousness.

TBC…

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	2. Two Souls  One Beating Heart

Chapter two

AN: Thank you most sincerely and full-heartedly for such a response to this kooky story. I spent weeks thinking about it. Wasn't going to attempt to tackle this. You've all left me feeling safe and happy that I did. Enough sappy-soapy stuff. Onward.

Thank so much for the review - putmoneyinthypursenotsignedin - Whom I couldn't reply to private like. FYI: Yacky Doodle is a Hanna-Barbera cartoon from the sixties I believe.

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This was weirdly unsettling and the darkness really sucked. It was like movie theater lighting- before the movie starts. Dim and yellow and confusing.

Right off, the thick scent of sulfur made my eyes water and made my chest feel heavy. The ground I walked on felt strange. Wet and soupy, molasses-like. Added in for a dreamy effect, was a smoky mist that swirled around my ankles so I couldn't see my feet. Everything was completely colorless, like looking through a camera set on night vision, or black and white. There was a tingling in the air, and not the sort of tingle you got from a hot chick or alcoholic cheer.

This was Sam's mind. Sam's hell. And it stretched out before me so big and so deep it was staggering.

I cautiously walked along, almost able to hear Sam calling out to me. What battle was he fighting right now. Or was he hiding? Or being torn apart. The universe of his mind could be endless. His hell, forever. I thought about what that meant. About all the things that could be lurking around in here. What the wall had been holding back. And what about the things the wall didn't hold back. Those could be just as bad. Sammy was extraordinarily smart and always had an imagination that rivaled no other. Not to mention the hell on earth the kid had gone through.

A howling wind blew past, startling me and taking my breath away, then it was gone. Wind? Here? Inside Sam's gourd?

I frowned. "Extra air space, huh, Sammy," I laughed, not really feeling funny, this could be bad.

I scanned the area, full-on expecting to see one of Sam's nightmares come flying out of the darkness. A giant winged bat or that pig-faced monster he always used to dream about when he was a kid. Friggin' thing would latch onto my leg and start chomping until there was nothing left of me. Or worse, maybe a smiling-face clown bathed in blood would unexpectedly show up, reach out and bad touch me. I could blame myself for that one. When we were young, I'd scared Sam to death with stories of clowns. At the time I'd laughed my ass off, while Sam cowered under the bed-covers.

"What a dick," I berated myself, hoping the old standby cliché 'paybacks are a bitch' didn't hold true in this case.

Cas was right about one thing, there were things at play here. Things I had no clue about. Creepy, crazy things I knew to be locked inside of Sam's brain. And worse, the mystery things I didn't know about. I needed to get to Sam. Not waste time fighting off his childhood imagination, or his real memories of the things we've hunted.

I forged on. Nothing. Not wind, nor razor clawed teddy bear, nor floating eyeball complete with killer laser beam would keep me away from Sam.

"And the postman thinks he has it bad," I muttered.

The ground shifted and I suddenly felt faint and dizzy, picking up the sound of a heartbeat.

"Sammy?" I paused to listen. Must be.

My brother's heart seemed undecided as to what pace to keep. At first pounding fast, then slow, then fast again. Maybe another seizure. The thought of Sam having an episode without me being there, was unbearable. But there was nothing I could do from here. His pulse rate remained off, but no matter what was happening to Sam's body, I took comfort in the sound anyway. His heart still beat. He was still alive. Still fighting for me.

"Hang on, Sam."

I shook the dizziness from my head and moved on. Man, I was doped up and disoriented. This was a thousand times worse than time travel.

"Now would be a good time for your namby-pamby self to let me know you're there, Cas," I called out, staring skyward - only there was no sky - only grayish darkness.

Rain started to fall, pattering against my face. I licked my lips. Wasn't raining water, but some sort of oily, thick shit. Inner Sam was a strange world I didn't understand.

"Cas," I wiped the oily substance off my lips, using the sleeve of my jacket.

Why hadn't Mr. Stick up his ass answered? Maybe I needed to be a little more formal.

I raised my hands and closed my eyes. I wiggled about, adjusting my footing. "Okay, here goes." Taking in a deep breath, I prayed, "Dear Castiel who art way beyond, it would gladden my sorry ass to hear thy haloed ass respond." I dropped my hands and waited doing a perimeter check.

Cas was still a no-show. There was nothing. And that nothing started to take over my brain, leaking my thoughts out of my ears.

I tilted, but forced my feet to the ground - or was that Sam's brain - whatever - keeping myself from passing out. The weird shower continued to spiral down, soaking me to the skin.

Bitching and moaning - because it made me feel better - I trudged on, unsure as to where.

Every now and again, a jagged bolt of white lighting zapped the area. Making me unbalanced and off keel. Flashes of things, objects, appeared and disappeared in my peripheral vision. Fleeting images, snapping off like black and white photographs. Sam's memories were random and all over the place. Some things I recognized. Some I didn't. There was a water fountain full of pennies. Clean, white sheets billowing in the wind. A paint pallet. A delicate hand holding a paint brush, stroking colors on a blank canvas. On one of the fingers sat an overly large diamond ring. There was a marble head stone and fresh-cut flowers situated around a stuffed animal. Someone sobbed, then screamed as that same delicate hand broke through the soil, reaching up out of the grave.

"Holy, friggin'..." I leapt sideways and the creepy field trip disappeared. Replaced by a mighty-fine collection of skimpy and very sexy woman's panties. I raised a brow. "What the fuck?" This looked more like one of my memories.

The wind picked up again, bringing a haze to my head and the smell of cookies and dusty books and the fresh scent of lemon scented Pine Sol to my nose. I started to shake and shiver. Memories kept fading in and out. In and out. Like a car's radio antenna that was bent after it'd gone through one too many carwashes. Then, I started to feel the same. All wishy-washy and out of tune. Things not making sense.

Feelings rushed through me like flying, heated arrows. These feelings… I knew didn't belong to me. Fear and gentleness, courage and rage. Everything on high speed, all blurring together. The images and feelings were like loose sand swirling around and littering my brain. My head was a mess, and I coudln't grasp onto a constructive thought.

There came a loud thumping in my ear. Vibrating through my whole body, causing my vision to dim.

I sensed a lot of instability. Hard-edged decisions, obsessions. Someone tracking, scrabbling to unfold mysteries and secrets. Digging deep. Sometimes finding what they were looking for, sometimes not, yet feeling like all their hard work was meaningless and in vain.

This was bizarre.

All I knew was these things were not a part of me. I felt like someone had slipped me a Mickey. Everything helter-skelter crazy. Why was I here? Where was here? Had I fallen off the edge of the world. I squeezed my eyes shut tight trying to remember, but it hurt.

"Crap." I stumbled on, desperately trying to pick up pace, pick up a trail, make my way through the strange, gray labyrinth.

I was here for a very important reason. Right?

Things kept changing. The ground. The smells. A flash of color here, a surge of wind there. One minute, I'd be facing East, then in a wink, I'd be facing West. Or was that South? I was totally confused and turned around, but kept moving. Desperately trying to keep my head on straight. To keep my feet on the ground that kept altering, from hard road to soupy sludge. All I knew was …was…was…I didn't know jack. I decided to go East, hoping to find the rising sun as I walked across mud-covered wet leaves, and filthy trash.

The further I went, the harder it became to think about anything at all. I kept moving downward. Through layers and layers of narrow tunnels and abstract images and thoughts. With each step, I grew colder, a creepiness trickling in. There was something here I needed to retrieve. Take back with me. The need to lay claim to something or someone was thunderous and soul-stiring. And I needed to do it slick and fast, before it was too late. But I couldn't remember anymore than that to save my life or anyone elses. I was pretty damn sure I wasn't in this funhouse to play, and life saving was exactly the thing I should be doing. But who. Where? Only a moment ago, I thought I had the answer.

The sulfur smell was back, mingling with another disgusting odor - decaying animal flesh if my nostrils were not mistaken. I was drowning in the stench. I gasped, wrinkling my nose, almost getting sick, but swallowed the hot liquid back. The ground rumbled again, the thumping increasing, taking me off balance.

"Damn it. Now what?" I collapsed to my knees ripping another hole in my jeans.

I sat there, picking at the hole, obsessed with it. Holes, holes everywhere. Holes in the ozone. Holes in the muffler. Holes in the ground. Holes in my head.

There came that flash of lightning, followed by something new. A strange clicking sound like someone playing with a light switch. On off. On off. On off.

I glanced up. A crackly, liney image appeared before me. Was like watching an old movie on TV.

A little boy, who couldn't be much more than eight-years-old, knelt down to the ground. He held a tiny bird in his hand. A dead bird. Tears streamed down his face as he gently placed the bird into a small cardboard box meant to hold ten rounds of shotgun shells. Closing the lid, he was about to place the box into a hole he'd dug, when another boy, older, grabbed the box away from him.

"I told you what we have to do with dead things, dork," The older boy cursed, whipping out a lighter.

"No! Don't. Give her back." The younger boy cried, scrambling for the box, but it was too late.

The older boy had struck the lighter and set the box on fire, dropping the box into the hole. "I'm sorry, Sammy. I am," he barely mumbled. "But dad says it's our duty to lay all things to rest properly." The boy pocketed the lighter and walked away, leaving the smaller child alone, crying and staring down at the flames.

The image faded as fast as it had come.

"Okay." I scrambled up from the spongy ground.

Was I hallucinating. Who would do that to a little kid? And why?

No clue. All I could do was continued on.

Seemed I'd gone a long way, when I finally came to a crossroad. Standing dead center, I glanced all around. Everything in every direction was dull, muted of color. Wet leaves scattered across a mud-trenched path that seemed to stretch out into eternity. There was something I needed to remember, but couldn't. All I knew was this path was damp and reeked like rancid pus oozing out form under a bloody scab. I sighed and turned a degree. There came a fragrant breeze and in plain view, only a hop, skip and jump away was the warm golden glow of the sun setting, and the slow lap of peaceful waters. Great. Sand. Sun. Waves. All meant girls in bikinis or better yet…not in bikinis. I took a step West.

"Dean?" A distant voice called out to me. "Are you there?"

I shook my rattled head. Not only was I seeing things I was hearing things. I took another step.

"Dean, I need you to respond!"

I stopped again, frowning and looking all around. There was no one. "Respond to what?"

"Can you hear me?" The voice whispered from behind. I glanced over my shoulder once, but still, no one was there.

"This isn't funny, chuckles." Good thing I couldn't see whoever this was as I would have sucker punched them where they stood.

"Can you hear me?"

I rolled my eyes. "I'm talking to you aren't' I?" I frowned. _Was I?_

"How do you feel?"

"How do I…?" I thought about that a second. "Like I'm stuck in a giant barrel full of monkey's and each one has a hammer and each hammer is banging against my head."

"This way." The voice seemed to be coming from the East - the dark side. "Dean, hurry." The voice was like a battering ram jamming into my ears. "Find the wall. Find him. Find Sam. He will not be anywhere peaceful. Search the darkness."

More memories flashed before me. Moments and people and things. Weird, unexplainable things. I was confused and lost, but fought for possession of my taffy stretched brain.

_Brain. Brain. Brain. _

I lingered on that word. Why?

"I must be crazy," I muttered.

"No. You are not. Dean. You must concentrate."

"Get out of my head you son of a bitch!" I yelled, clutching at my hair and struggling to keep standing.

"That is not possible," the voice said calmly. "This is not your head."

"If this isn't my head, then why do I feel like someone is digging my eyeballs out my nostrils?" I cringed. "Man, you're ruining my sunny date with Beach Barbie," I grit out my teeth.

"Dean, you must listen." Hot breath blew into my ear as the voice talked, but I only caught bits and pieces of what it was trying to say. I tried to listen harder but it hurt like hell and I dropped to one knee. "The wall will be colorless. Grim," the voice continued. "Find…" The voice cut off then was back. "Only when you have him can you go toward the light. Follow the dark road." Then the breath and voice was gone.

I waited for the voice to come back, but it didn't. Everything danced and ebbed around me. Greenish- black turning to a milky-white fog that smelled of mushrooms, rotten apples and mold. The disembodied voice said to follow the dark road. I glanced back toward the warm sun. "Peachy. Pass up a date with a hot. beach chick with all the accessories for a possible encounter with some wicked bitch with flying monkey's as pets. Ha!"

There was no reason for me to trust the voice in my head, but somehow I knew I needed to.

I took a breath and stood. "Okay. Okay." I caressed the back of my neck, trying to rid myself of the pain and somehow knowing that dark road was the only road for me.

Walking this road was a real bitch. The mud; which really wasn't mud - I didn't know what the hell - was heavy and cement like. Each step my boots sunk deeper into the slime, making eerie sucking noises every time I withdrew my foot.

I felt like Dorothy. This wasn't Kansas anymore. Had I ever been to Kansas? Felt like I might have been. Glancing down at my muddy, brown boots made me wonder how I was getting back to wherever I needed to get back to. Kansas or otherwise.

"Come on, Dean, you know ruby-red slippers were never your style," I laughed nervously.

Click.

Click.

There came another flash of light. "Shit. Not again." I shifted from foot-to-foot, uneasily.

For a second, I was trapped in a void of shapeless shadows. I stopped moving so I could try to add things up. The first thing I noticed was dismal nothingness, like everything had erased itself. It was dark, and I was buried within the empty silence. Then all at once, I was damn near buried in a sea of energized, screaming people, hands held high waiving lighters wildly in the air and downing bottle after bottle of beer.

At first, I was freaked. What were they screaming for? Had Godzilla escaped Tokyo? A Zippo wouldn't bring that big bitch down. I searched for my gun, but stopped, when a voice blasted over a loud speaker.

"All aboard! Ha ha ha ha ha ha haaaa!"

I knew that laugh.

"Ay, Ay, Ay, Ay, Ay, Ay, Ay."

I knew that voice.

Whipping around, I found myself standing in front of a stripped down stage. The Prince of Darkness breaking into his song 'Crazy Train.' The music so loud it was deafening.

"Son of a bitch," I squawked in total surprise. I'd only seen Ozzy live in concert once in my life time. "Son of a bitch." But that was years ago. 19- something. Yet, I recognized this place. I did a slow spin. Taking in the sights. The roar of the crowd. The excitement in the air. The heat of summer baking my brain. Ozzy always was a crowd-pleaser. This was a night I couldn't forget. This was the exact same concert. But how? "Son of a bitch." My eyes landed on a girl half my age, barely wearing a halter top. She blew me a baby soft air kiss, that sparked my other brain's interest. "Oh, son of…"

Someone to my left elbow nudged me. "Dude, what'd you say?"

I turned and my jaw dropped. Standing right beside me was Sam. "A bitch," I finished.

"Dean, I can't hear you, man," Sam said, taking a long pull of the PBR in his hand, a huge, drunken smile plastered across his young face.

I shook my head. Sam wasn't really into the hard rock scene like I was, but the kid was obviously enjoying himself. I shook my head again. Why was everything I was seeing in black and white. Like some freaked up dream. Was I dreaming? Couldn't be.

"Oh, God," I muttered as my eyes opened and my reason for being here - as well as where here was - slammed into me like a meteorite destroying the earth.

The disembodied voice I'd heard was Cas. The memories I was seeing. Sam's.

This memory, we shared. A memory unfolding right under my nose. The dead bird and little boy. That was a memory too. The little boy was Sam. The older boy, me. Only I didn't remember that one. Probably blocked it out. Clearly Sam had not. The memory was tucked safely away inside his gigantic emo brain; which was where I was at the moment.

Ozzy continued to sing, "Mental wounds not healing. Life's a bitter shame. I'm going off the rails on a crazy train. I'm going off the rails on a crazy train."

It was the perfect theme song for what was happening right now. I became aware of Inner Sam's heartbeat once again. It seemed to match the songs fast pace. Not normal.

This was worse than I feared. I hadn't been here that long, and already was losing touch with reality. Sam's brain was a huge rift full of traps and barriers and God knew what else. I wondered if there was something, or someone, besides me here. Desperate to keep me from my brother. Maybe it was the wall itself. Still trying to keep Sam's hell locked away - Sam included. Maybe it was the very thing distracting me with glimpses of the past. Like here and now. A lousy skid-row version of Scrooge at a beer-friendly Ozzy concert.

"Dean." Sam frowned at me. "You okay, man? You look sick."

I was sick. Sam - outside Sam - was near dying. And if my memory served me; which it was having a hard time of doing. I'd gotten sick that night of the concert too. We'd bailed early, only halfway through the concert, and I was pissed. The flu deciding to hit me hard on one of our few fun nights off. Remembering the young girl, I noted it was probably for the best. The words jailbait ringing in my ears. Or was that the band? God, I was going to be sick all over again.

_Shit. Consentrate, Dean._

"Cas, how the hell do I get out of here?" I yelled at the 'fake' sky.

Of course, stick up his ass didn't answer and I started to panic, breathing heavy.

"Dean, calm down." Sam lay a concerned hand to my shoulder. "I think we should get out of here."

I looked at conjured-up Sam, and my stomach clenched and I could feel myself turn green. A moment ago Sam was having a blast. Now he was just worried for me.

"Dean, let's go, I think you're sick."

"I don't give a fuck!" The words flew from my mouth without thought.

Conjured-up Sam didn't seem to notice my outburst. Ridding himself of his PBR, he wrapped an arm around my shoulder. "Excuse us," he said as he carefully steered me through the crowd.

Here was my baby brother - in role reversal. Doing my job. I couldn't function like this, not for long. At this rate, my sanity would slip and I'd forget everything and would be lost inside of Sam.

"No!" I yanked away from conjured-up Sam. "I'm taking back my brother, you bastard."

I shoved my way rudely through the crowd. No one seemed to notice. Everyone laughing, drinking, kissing.

I shot a brief look over my shoulder. Conjured-up Sam was still wrangling conjured-up me away from the concert. I took in a few steadying breaths. The concert disappeared. In its place, I was back in the shadow of the wall. I listened for a moment. Breathing. Hearing my own heartbeat. Hearing Sam's lesser one.

I frowned as an odd thought came to me. All I needed was a map. A GPS. Something to help guide me to Sam. Keep me focused.

My eyes shot wide. "His heartbeat," I said, obviously to know one.

I dropped where I stood. Landing on both knees and leaning over to press an ear to the ground. My odd idea... latch onto Sam. I needed something that could trigger me out of la-la land. Keep me on task. Sam's heartbeat - even broken - was the key. Hearing it now already anchored me like nothing else ever could. It was a sound I'd heard all my life.

Before the kid was even born, I was mesmerized by its cadence. Listening to my baby brother's life with my ear pressed tight against our mother's belly.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

I listened to the rhythmic sound now. Sam's heart was calmer, steadier than before. Maybe he felt me here. I could hope.

I smiled, closing my eyes. "That's my boy, Sammy. Fight."

I listened to one beat after another. Latching onto the sound.

One beat.

Two beats.

Three beats.

Four.

Down on my knees, head bowed, I concentrated. Allowing my brother to take over me. To become a part of him, and him a part of me. It was a weird sort of chick-like thing to do, but girly shit be damned. I felt it working. This would keep me focused. Keep me in control. I detached from myself, giving over to Sam. We were one, and in a way, I think we'd always been. Could explain the attachment we'd carted around through the years. The one said to be unhealthy and codependent. How could this level of strength and comfort and completeness be viewed unhealthy? Freakish?

It wasn't as far as I was concerned.

Satisfied, I sat back on my hunches and smirked at the broken wall, giving it the finger.

Sam's heartbeat would carry me to where I needed to be. Would save us both. He just needed to keep it beating long enough.

TBC….


	3. Caged Hearts Can't Beat

Chapter three…

Thank you so much, caSammy, DeanSammy, and Sci-fi gal - for the sweetheart reviews I couldn't reply to privately.

Now on with the kookiness! A.K.A. - Acid trip. LOL.

/~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~/

I stood, squinting through the darkness of rotting timber and shadowy darkness. At first seeing nothing; which didn't make me feel any better. Totally knowing - what I didn't see looking back at me out of the darkness - was more important than what I did see. Took a few seconds, but my eyes adjusted and that's when I saw it. A long, winding, crumbling wall situated only a few yards away. This had to be the great wall of Sam. And great it was, even in the broken state it was in. It stretched out before me in both directions. Which way to go? Choosing wrong could mean certain death, and the one person who I could trust to help make the right decision wasn't here. Well… sort of wasn't here. I couldn't exactly paper, scissors, rock with Sam's brain.

My teeth clenched as well as my fists "Which way, Sammy?" I looked left, then right, not seeing an end in either direction "Come on, Sam-" I begged. "Talk to me." I closed my eyes and listened to Sam's heart. If nothing else, the sound was comforting, and I allowed it to move me. I nodded, opening my eyes. "That's it, bro, keep bitching." I went right, inching slowly along the failed wall.

I had to constantly fight off that floaty, dreaming feeling that wanted to drag me under, the danger growing with each step. This was all too real and put a whole other spin on the line 'out of your mind.' I literally was.

Sam's heart continued to beat, though struggling, and I followed as if he'd taken me by the hand moving along the wall and getting a closer look at it. Bitch was an architectural mess. Two parts shoddy, three parts piss poor, and still crumbling. Plumes of dust circled the air and gritty gravel rained to the ground. Death obviously wasn't a do-it-yourselfer, and he'd built a wall as frail and sickly looking as himself. While some of the wall still seemed to be impenetrable - built with steel and secured by chains - most of the wall was ridiculously flimsy, made out of paper thin drywall, plexiglass sheets, and cracked cinderblock - a weird combination. Crap, the twenty dollar a night motel rooms we stayed at were constructed better.

This was Sam's only standing defense against hell?

"Tell me you're kidding," I snapped angrily.

"Why would I be kidding?"

"Cas!" I winced, hunching my shoulders, his voice booming in my head like a week-long hangover. "Tone it down," I whispered rubbing my temples and wobbling slightly. "Why do you keep popping in and out like that?"

"It's Sam."

"What? Sam. Is he okay?" I felt my knees dip.

"He is alive, but weakening. I can't always get through to you. His body appears to be fighting off a bacterial infection."

My eyes popped wide. "Sam's sick? Why? How? Does he have a cold? Cough? Fever? Has he-"

"I think it is you, Dean."

I drew up straight. "Me?"

"I believe Sam's body views you as a threat, and his immune system has kicked in. He's sweaty and very hot, his breathing is shallow and his seizures have increased. It is making it difficult for me to keep contact."

"I'm a friggin', bug?" I shook my head.

"A bacterial infection," Castiel corrected.

"Sammy," I whispered, running a hand over my face.

"Dean, I am no doctor. I think you need to say the word."

I thought about that a minute. I was stuck between a rock and Sam's hell. If I pulled out now, Sam would die. If I stayed here much longer, Sam would die. There was no choice. The only option. Get to Sam and get us both out. Like yesterday.

"Dean! The word."

"No, Cas. No," I rejected. "Just… I'll find him. Give me a little more time. Just stay with Sam and help him."

"Dean, again, I am no doctor. How do I…"

"Just do it." I started running in the direction I'd been going. "Don't give Sam anything but water. Any kind of medication could effect me and slow me down," I panted as I ran, not really even knowing if I'd chosen the right direction. "Cas, you have to keep his fever from spiking higher. Get a cool washcloth and keep him sponged down." I skipped around a large, broken piece of the wall. "Keep him comfortable. If he starts to shiver, stop with the washcloth and get him warm." I splashed through a puddle. "Cas, you get that?" No answer. "Cas," I called louder. Still nothing. "What a crap load of shit." I ducked away from a cinderblock falling out of the wall, hoping the angelic quack got all that.

Prickling heat brought perspiration beading on my forehead and back, soaking the shirt under my jacket. Sam's body was trying to burn me out. His fevered brain was dreaming, hallucinating, remembering. Rolling random film footage - on what seemed like a giant movie screen in my head - or was it his head? Either way, the images were distracting and did nothing to help my pounding head.

I could hear the rumble of the Impala. Watched as stores, mailboxes, fire hydrants, and trees whizzed by. I heard rifle shots. Saw monsters of every shape and size drop and burn. There came the click, click of a keyboard. Dad taking a swing at Sam and serving the kid up with a bloody nose, knocking him to the ground. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as Sam stormed off down a dark road, everything he owned stuffed in his duffle. Saw Madison's tear-filled eyes just before Sam pulled the trigger. Watched myself be ripped to bloody shreds by a hellhound, Sam's raw voice screaming my name. Jessica burning on the ceiling. Then mom.

_Mom? He remembered mom? Maybe not remembered, but his big brain had retained the image. His crib view far more vivid than my four-year-old hallway one could ever be._

"Uuhh," I nearly vomited, a cold chill ripping through my body. I wanted to drop to my knees and just stop right there. This was only a small part of what Sam carried around inside of him every fucking single day of his life. "Gawd, Sammy." This was more memory than any one person should have to bare.

Taking a deep breath, I kept moving. Kept my sights peeled for one thing, and one thing only - Sam. The real Sam. The one trapped in hell. These were just old, black and white memories. The real Sam would be in full-blown color. I'd know the difference.

"I h-hope," I stuttered out of breath.

The movie finally came to an end and the pounding in my head lessened. Now only my chest felt tight, from worry. Sam was sick. Probably dying. Fever ravaged by horrid memories and dreams. Because of me. The bug in his brain. The guilt charging through me spurred my feet to move faster. Could we be anymore screwed?

Werewolves. Poltergeists. Ghosts. I understood them. This over the rainbow shit - that was well above my pay grade. I hoped I didn't encounter any of Sam's nightmares. The unreal would be just as dangerous as the real floating around inside Sam's head. The power of dreams is strong. Dreams are the crossroads between real and unreal. A place where all your primal fears, wants, dirty little secrets and freakish desires live. Memories were even stronger.

I trudge down a hill, past the rusted wheels of an old wagon and the broken boards of a pine box. Around me, stone graves jutted up from the ground. Some cracked and turned onto their sides, others tossed into the shadowy weeds. I noted on the few standing headstones all the names and dates had been crossed out.

There came a flash of light and that friggin' clicking sound. I braced myself for what might be coming, but wasn't fast enough as something flew out of the darkness and walloped the side of my head.

"Shit." I doubled over at the waist, hands on my knees and squeezing my eyes shut - my hangover turned concussion. "What the…" Panting, I opened my eyes, a baseball lay on the ground at my feet.

"Sorry, Dean."

I straightened, and stood perfectly still. My eyes growing moist with tears, staring into the happy face of my eleven-year-old brother.

"S-s-sam?"

Two-seconds later, he disappeared along with the vandalized graveyard. I remembered this place. It was a graveyard he and I used to play catch in until it got too dark. Dad was busy on another job, researching mostly. Dad never seemed to have time to be a father to Sam. So I filled in when I could. Pitching grounders and high flies and talking all kind of crap while we did. Seemed like a dad sort of thing to do, besides, it made Sammy happy. I had to smile, remembering how the kid nailed me in the head, but good, more than once. Sammy would get all big-eyed and tearful telling me sorry a million times. I just laughed the gigantic headache off, rubbing Sam's shaggy-dog hair and telling him what a good boy he was, then winging the ball into the weeds so he could fetch. That always got Sam riled and he'd chase me around the headstones, until we'd get tiered and head back to the motel.

"Awe, Sammy," I choked, glad to see Sam had kept this memory.

I moved on, the wall curving to the left. Shadows, like ghosts, crept across the falling barricade. I guessed I must be on the right path when a chain link fence appeared, blocking my path. Hell's rabbit hole, again, trying to detour and redirect. Besides that, Sam's heartbeat was getting louder.

"You're not stopping me." I backed up to get a good running start. Jumping several feet into the air, I latched onto the links with a loud jingle. Using hands and feet to quickly climb upward. "I'm Spiderman," I huffed, halfway up.

Flash.

Click.

Click.

"Crap, now wha…owe." I cut my hand on sharp piece of metal as I flipped over the top of the fence and jumped down, landing on my feet. "Screw you," I growled, tucking my thumb inside my fist to stop the bleeding.

I was surrounded by a forest. A dark, shadowy, foggy forest that had way too many trees.

"Where are we now, Sammy?" I didn't remember this place, knowing for certain lions and tigers and bears were the least of my worries.

I walked in and out of the tightly packed trees, half-blinded by darkness when it started to rain, blinding me further. I shivered with cold when the wind started to blow like a hurricane in my ears. I couldn't hear Sam's heartbeat anymore. I gasped, pulling my jacket collar higher against the storm. Sam's storm. A storm that whirled around and through me like someone was using me for knife throwing practice. I was getting disoriented again, and had to stop to lean against a tree to catch my breath. Regroup.

A shadowy figure stepped from around the other side of the trunk, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. Was a tall, thin kid, maybe all of fifteen, soaking wet and decked out in military gear - complete with bulging army pack and high-powered scope rifle - stood before me.

"Sammy?" I uttered in surprise, pressing further against the tree, not used to being taken off guard.

Just as surprised, Sam took a wobbly step back, adjusting the heavy pack on his back. "What are you doing here?" he asked, the shocked look on his face quickly turning to anger.

I glanced around the dark woods in confusion. "You were here first, Sam. You tell me what you're doing here?"

"Sam lives here now," the kid replied.

A knot formed in my throat. "Dude," I swallowed it down. "Why are you talking in third person.?"

"Sam can't be with you ever again. You need to leave."

I shook my head. I was here for Sam. Wasn't leaving without him. "I'm not leaving without you." On instinct, I reached out for Sam, to take him by the arm, lead him away from here. He jumped sideways, laughing as he avoided my hand. "Sam, I need to get you out of here. Now," I bit out, not at all finding this funny.

"Sam is no longer your concern."

"What the?" I ran a hand over my face, trying to rid myself of confusion. "This isn't a game, Sammy. I know how hell feels and I'm not leaving you here."

Sam took another side step away from me. He was beyond afraid. I could see the fear shining in his eyes as he said, "Sam hurt other people. It was his fault. He needs to stay here. Go away, Dean."

"I'm not going anywhere, little brother." I leapt toward Sam, this time intending to tackle and squish his scrawny ass to the ground. Handcuff him, if I could find a pair.

Sam was a jack rabbit. Clever and quick. He darted off in-between the darkened trees, disappearing from my sight. "Son of a bitch." I started after him, but slipped on the wet mud landing on my knees into a puddle.

"Sammy, why are you working against me, man?"

Flash.

Click.

Click.

I was still on my knees, in the mud, rain pouring down. Only one thing was different. I held a sagging body in my arms. I forced the body upward and peered into the pale-white face. I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. I wanted to die right then and there. Sam hung limp in my arms, doing a floppy bunny impersonation. He had a blank look on his face, his eyes drifting from left to right, not seeing me.

"Memory. Just a memory. It's just a memory, Dean," I repeated over and over trying to believe myself, but it was all too real and I couldn't move. I had to keep hold of him. Keep my brother off the cold, wet, muddy ground.

Sam's eyes rolled back and he sagged further. I grabbed hold of the front of his jacket, keeping him upright, his body shapeless in my grasp. His skin that was white was now blue, one last breath slipping out between his lips, his soul gone - again.

"No. No." I pulled Sam against me, his chin thumping to my shoulder. "Sam."

Weak and sick, I could only hold him tight. Beg my chest to rip apart. Beg my beating heart and soul to crawl inside Sam's silent, soulless -

"Oh, God." Dawning hit me like a grand piano falling from the sky and crushing me against the cold, cruel sidewalk of life.

Soulless Sam. He was behind this. Sam had said with complete certainty that soulless Sam was a part of him. Maybe an unconscious part. But a part just the same. Robo Cop was the one fighting me. He was the one who'd brought the wall down around my brother's ears out of the fucking blue. Sam had been so afraid of what he'd done. How many people he'd hurt. I couldn't break through that barrier to help him. To make Sam understand it wasn't him. Wasn't his fault. Not really. Soulless Sam, he could break through, and he did. From the inside, using my brother's pain and guilt against him. It was him. That other part inside of Sam, the unconscious part, that had taken down the wall. I couldn't fully explain it, but I sure as I was a Winchester going to fix it. Leaving Sam here was not an option. If I had to move hell to do it, I would.

"I am in control here. Not you." I gently lowered my dead brother to the muddy ground, and brushed back his wet bangs from his relaxed face. "I will get you out, Sammy. I know you better than you know yourself." Closing my eyes tight, I listened to my heartbeat, listened to the rain, the wind. "Sam, answer me."

For what seemed like an eternity there was nothing, then Sam's heartbeat suddenly started up again. Faint and slow, but there. I gasped, like coming up for air after being under water for a really long time. Opening my eyes, I had materialized back in front of the busted up wall.

"I'm coming, Sammy." I stood, straightening my body and continued on my journey.

**/~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~/**

I hurried along, knowing I was on the right path. Fire burst out of small cracks in the spongy ground, sending heavy black smoke twisting around me. I froze. Panic rushing through me when I heard a whisper.

"D'n."

I gasped. The voice was Sam's, and it sent a million more memories charging through me like a raging bull. Smoke and heat swirled around. The air here was blustery hot. I could barely breathe, and started to cough and hack. Covering my nose and mouth with one arm, I forged on. The destruction was like a small nuclear weapon had been discharged, the kinetic energy of the blast nearly flattening this section of the wall down.

Again, memories, flashed. Horrible ones that no wall of any kind could ever hold back.

An innocent girl left to burn in a building as soulless Sam ran off after his quarry. A man's tongue being forced into a paper shredder, punishment for not telling the truth. A neighborhood cat shoved in a microwave, used for distraction. Soulless Sam pulling the plug on a brain-dead priest, disemboweling him and using his parts for some sort of blood spell.

I shivered, inner Sam's voice. pounding in my ears.

What did I do? How could I do that? Why? Sorry does not cut it. It was me. All me.

More horrible memories bled through me. Soulless Sam did bad things. Bad things that got the job done. If the job hit a dead end, he'd find an alternative way. He was a machine and there was no stopping him from the end result he desired. Even if that meant slaughtering the innocent. Soulless Sam didn't know what wrong was. What right was. He had no gut instincts, no emotion. His lack of remorse enabled him to hunt and get the job done, no matter the cost.

By the time I rounded another corner of the busted up wall, I understood my brother's hell probably better than anyone could. It was overwhelming. His guilt. His shame. His sorrow. His hurt. How he'd been made to suffer, by using himself against him. Unconsciously yes, but in Sam's mind, there were no excuses. He'd done those things. All those horrible things. My brother was truly his own worst enemy. There was no wonder he thought he should stay in hell. Probably broke the wall down himself. Self punishment.

Sam jumped into Lucifer's rabbit hole and suffered for it. He wasn't pushed. He jumped. He'd chosen hell to save the rest of us. Because it was the right thing to do. He gave everything, and I was going to see that he received redemption.

I took a step.

"No!" I heard Sam yell, then there was a complete and total blackout, sight and memory both.

I couldn't even see my hand in front of my face, let alone remember what my face looked like.

I paused to gather my bearings. Took a moment for my eyes to adjust to what I was seeing. Something was burning. A form surrounded by orange. A firestorm. As hot as it was, my blood ran cold curling and numbing its way down to my toes. The form was human. A man. His long hair eerily blowing in the wind produced from the heat of the flames.

He was screaming in pain. His whole body trembling, yet he remained standing, clothes intact, skin unsinged. The fire seemed to have him encased, trapped. Like he could burn like that forever. Why? What had he done? Make a deal with the devil, but kept his fingers crossed. A prisoner of hell forever. The thought blinded me with anger. Made me raging mad, but for some reason, I couldn't move. My thoughts spinning.

The man on fire screamed louder. Think! I ordered my brain, struggling to grasp what was happening. I forced myself to take a breath and slow my heart beat. The man now sounded more like a baby crying and I shivered.

"Where are you? Dean, I need to know. Have you located Sam?"

My memory slammed back into me like a runaway teen.

Lucifer.

Michael.

Death.

The wall.

Hell.

Cas beaming me down or rather in.

"Sammy!" I raced forward.

TBC…..


	4. Degrees Of Fire

**Chapter four**

**Thank you, most sincerely, for sticking with me on this bizarre journey. And to Sci-fi Gal and Csammy! You are so sweet.**

**/~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~/**

My heart pounded as I ran toward my burning brother. I couldn't run fast enough. Every inch of me burning right along with Sam. The smell of burning flesh was sharp in my flaring nostrils, Sam's cries sending prickly goose bumps running up and down my arms and legs, and bile bubbling up in my throat. My knees threatened to buckle, but I forced myself forward.

Fire burns. First degree. Second degree. Third degree. But this wasn't any normal fire. This was hellfire. A degree so hot it torched souls.

There were no chains, ropes or bloody meat hooks holding Sam where he stood. Just fire. Twisted trees and ancient grave markers were scattered across barren, rocky ground, everything bathed in a sinister red glow. Sam's hell looked more like the album cover for Meatloaf. The only thing missing was the giant, creepy, leather winged bat on top a church steeple, and horse-skull motorcycle complete with long-haired, naked, biker dude.

Sam cried out again, this time the sound buckling my knees and I fell, but quickly got back up. My only plan - get to Sam. Jump through the flaming hoop surrounding him, knock his ass free and roll him over and over until the fire got put out. The thought crossed my mind, that my ass would be caught with him inside the ring of fire - didn't matter. If I had to burn with Sam throughout eternity, I would. Better that, than living, knowing exactly where my brother was and what was happening to him everyday.

Suddenly, I felt something press into my throat. Like someone held a cold, steel blade of a knife to my neck.

"Nuuuuuu." Sam's cries faded to a whimper, breaking my heart.

Ignoring the ache in my chest and the ghostly blade to my throat, I leapt from the ground toward Sam. My jaw clinched, preparing for the intense heat and pain.

The pain didn't come in the form of burning or throat slashing, however. It came in the form of a concussion as I impacted against something invisible and rock-hard.

"Ugh." I dropped to the ground like a blind bird hitting the Empire State Building, only a few feet from Sam.

"What the?" I sat up and shook the twinkling stars from my head and looked up.

I could feel the heat of the blaze and the black smoke burned my eyes. Dazed, I raised a fisted hand and came in contact with something.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

Was like knocking on a solid oak door, only there was nothing there.

"Son of a bitch."

The cheap ass, Home Depot wall that held Sam's memories in place may have crumbled, but inner Sam's wall - though invisible - stood strong.

Sam was still trapped.

Sam was still screaming.

Sam was still burning, only inches away from me.

Memory or not, Sam's pain was real enough. He was gasping for breathe between cries, the tendons in his neck popping out as he stretched and struggled against the flames of hell.

"No!" I climbed to my feet and started kicking and punching and kicking the wall like a kid having an out of control tantrum. "Nonononono!" I beat and hammered and whaled, but the wall wasn't budging. Neither would I. I wasn't going to give up. "Saaaaaaam." I started tearing at the wall with my fingers.

Not sure how long I went at it before running out of breath and finger nails, the warm rush of blood slipping down my arm. This wasn't working. I stopped my efforts.

"Pl-please, please," I begged, huffing and puffing, but no one listened. No one cared. No one.

The invisible wall stood strong.

The fire engulfing Sam burned brighter.

Sam's pain, as Cas would say, was inconceivable.

I began to wonder who'd built this particular wall. Death to keep hell in, or Sam to keep me out, the latter being my guess.

"Deeeean!" Sam cried out to me, but was looking toward his right.

"Oh, God." My forehead thumped helplessly against the wall. It was smooth as glass and more like an alien force field than a wall. I raised both hands and pressed them flat against the hidden barrier, trying to get as close to Sam as I could. "Hey. Hey," I called frantically, desperate to snag Sam's attention. He wouldn't look my way. Couldn't hear me or was just to busy scratching and clawing and struggling against the blazing pain. Maybe this friggin' thing was a one-way mirror. "Sam! Sam!" I slapped a flattened palm against the wall, time and time again - so hard it stung. "Damn it, Sam!" Clearly, this wasn't helping. "Sammy!"

Just then, Sam stopped screaming and turned to stare at me with pleading eyes. Something cold and breathy blew across the back of my neck and I shivered.

"Dean?" Sam reached a hand out through the flames toward me, taking in a few ragged breaths.

I opened my mouth to answer, but before a word got out the ground rumbled beneath my feet like an earthquake. Sam went stick-stiff and his eyes shot upward, head dropping back.

"Guhhhhh," he cried out, his body quickly stripped clean of clothing, then flesh.

My jaw dropped, but the scream was trapped in my throat as I watched my baby brother grotesquely burst into a spray of shiny-red blood, that fell like rain to form puddles on the ground. Sam had vanished. There was nothing left of him. Only the blood puddles and a pile of gray ash. Only small campfires crackling and burning here and there. I couldn't even hear Sam's heartbeat any more.

My mouth continued to hang open in shock. I couldn't breathe. Couldn't speak. Couldn't move. Couldn't do a thing. Held in place by the wall. Held in place by my feet like they were quick-dried in cement. I could only stare as the puddles of bright-red soaked into the ground - sickened and weak and shaky.

I slid to my ass, shouldered up against the clear barrier and squeezing my eyes shut tight. Waiting for the horror to go away. Waiting for a familiar hand to pull me out of the nightmare. Waiting to breathe. I thought about saying the word, but this was no nightmare. This was really happening, and wouldn't stop as long as Sam was alive and locked in his head. Even after death he probably still would be in hell. I had no way of knowing.

"S-s-s-a-am," I choked on the glob of vomit that had kept my scream silent, tears slipping out from under my lashes.

"Dean." Cas was back. "You have to…command of it." I could barely hear him. "Get up.…trying… stop you…have… power. Concentrate."

I shook my head so hard, my brain sliding from one end of my skull to the other. I strained to listen. To focus harder.

"Dean. Back here… now. With or without Sam! Find… beach, Dean. The beach… saw earlier. Where…freely speak… word. Didn't know…only… place…retrieve you."

Everything started to waver. I blinked repeatedly, seeing orange curtains, orange shag, a brown stained ceiling. Sam's wide-eyed blank face.

"Nononono." I went completely stiff. My two worlds were conflicting. The room where I lay asleep and this universe of Sam's. "Not leaving here. Not yet," I grit out my teeth.

Death's wall. Sam's Wall. Hell hard on my heels - and it was - wouldn't stop me from saving my little brother.

"Not without my brother," I spat the words. "Sam, I'm not leaving you." I pushed off the ground and ran along the wall like some stupid, starved rat searching for the hole that lead to the cheese. "Come on, come on, come on." I went down one way, and up the other. Testing for a hint of weakness. Searching for a secret opening. A friggin' pinhole. A fucking button to push. Anything. I got nothing.

I came back to stand in front of the brownish-red spot on the ground - it was all that was left of Sam. There was nothing.

Silence.

Not even the background thumping of his heartbeat. The stillness and helplessness was killing me. Left an empty ache that only fueled my own fire.

"You can't stop me!" I dropped, landing on my knees in the rocky dirt and started to dig at the base of the invisible wall. If I couldn't break it, or climb it, or go through it, I'd tunnel under it.

I frantically dug with my bare hands, the landscape turning upside down, then right side up, trying to scramble my brains, and for moments at a time it did. Without Sam's heartbeat guiding me, my memory started to fade. I started to feel disconnected and didn't understand why I was digging but kept at it.

Sam.

Sam.

Sam.

I chanted the mantra in my head as I dug. Ignoring the worms and maggots crawling between my bloody - nailless - fingers, every ounce of my concentration on Sam.

Snapshots of my brother filled my head.

Sam smiling. Sam crying. Sam laughing. Sam combing his hair, brushing his teeth, staring intently at his laptop, driving my car, pulling up his hoodie, thumbing through a book, rolling his eyes, chugging a beer, shooting his gun, shooting pool, shooting me the bitch face, scratching an itch, hugging me tight.

"You can't have him," I growled. "Won't let you keep him." I dug and dug.

Just when I thought the trench was big enough for me to army-crawl under the wall, my hard work would magically disappear and I'd have to start digging all over again. I was on dig number ten when the silence broke, and the thump, thump of a heartbeat took its place.

_If nothing else I could always trust hell to screw with my head. _Jaw locked, sweat dripping into my eyes, I peered up. Sam was whole again. He lay curled in a ball on his side, facing me. His clothes were caked in dried blood, and his hair was matted and sticking to his face, his eyes glazed over.

"Sam," I called, but he didn't respond. Just grimaced as he slowly sat up, running his right hand all over his body in a confused sort of way. "Sam," I called again.

Sam took a look around him.

"Sammy!" I stood up, a truck-load of dirt falling off me. "Over here." I banged on the wall to grab his attention.

Sam unsteadily got to his feet. He was hunched over and haggard, sweltering blisters, worse than any cigarette burn, decorated his neck and face. Even at a distance, I could see the slight shake of his knees, note the way he barely took in a breath. Kid was a broken mess.

"Sam, I need you to come here." I thumped the wall again. "Over here. Sam!"

Sam's eyes slowly came around to meet mine. "Dean?" he whispered.

His voice was weedy and thin, but I heard Sam, plain as I could see the hell he stood knee deep in.

"Dean, what-what are you doing here?" Sam's voice was panicked, and scared, and bitch faced all at the same time.

Kid wasn't happy to see me.

"Sammy, it's okay." Shit. I didn't have a lot of time to explain, and still had no clue how to set him free.

"Ho-how'd you get here?" Sam leveled a hard gaze at me. "Are you nuts, man?" He staggered toward me, gaining momentum and balance with each step. "What did you do, Dean!" His fists clenched at his sides.

"It's not what you think, Sam," I said calmly, trying to slow his roll. "I'm here to get you out."

"It's hell, Dean," Sam spit angrily. "You're not supposed to be here, and there's no getting me out." Sam was running now - full speed - right toward me like he was going to shove my ass off a cliff.

I backed up a step, hands raised trying to stop him. "Whoa! Whoa! Wh-"

Too late, Sam collided face first into the invisible wall.

"Guh." He stumbled back in shock, his nose bleeding, then went down to his ass on the ground.

"Oh!" I cringed, running both hands through my hair, that had to hurt.

Sam looked at me, brow furrowed, chest heaving. "What's going on?" He crawled over to me, leaning a shoulder against the transparent wall - the only thing keeping his face out of the dirt.

"Dude." I squatted down next to Sam at eye level. "Y'okay?"

Took a second for Sam to respond, shaking his head a few times. "I guess." He nodded, looking totally off-center as he swiped away the blood trickling from his nose.

"You going to let me explain now?"

"Fine," he panted.

"This isn't-" I raised my hands, making quotation marks in the air. "Thee hell. This is your memories of hell, Sam."

"Memories, Dean?" Sam tilted his head at the blood on his fingers. "You can't physically feel memories." He rubbed at the smoldering, red welts on his neck.

"Yes you can," I said quietly. "Look," I took a breath, needing to explain this fast and clear. "The wall in your head fell, but obviously not all of it." I gave the damn invisible bitch before me a good fisted thwack for proof. "Your drooling ass is back in some crazy orange flavored motel room with Cas, who…"

"Zapped you here inside of my head," Sam finished for me.

I smiled and gave Sam a nod, always impressed by how the kid - even hurt and dazed and burning in the viscera of hell - could follow the bouncing ball. "Gawd, Dean." He shivered, and mad a repulsive face. "You're inside of me?"

"Sort of. My soul is anyway."

Sam squirmed. "That's sick."

"You have no idea, man, but I'm getting you out."

"How?" Sam squirmed, uncomfortably.

I knew what he was thinking. "Bro," I tsked. "Give me a little credit here, not going to try and drag you out of your ass or any other opening." I stood. "I can't break it." I gave the wall a swift kick. "Tried to dig underneath it, but soon as I think I'm about to break through the hole fills back in."

"What about a hidden door of some sort?" Sam sounded all of twelve, looking up at me. His normally bright hazel eyes, dull with fear and pain.

My throat tightened and I glanced away, giving him my silent answer. I had nothing.

Sam cleared his throat, "Dean, you have to go. You tried. You did. I know you did, but you can't stay here."

"No," I shot back at Sam. "Not leaving you."

An icy wind picked up, spitting bits of burning hell into my eyes. I got a bad feeling and turned - instincts on point - a dark, vast abyss crept in behind me as if to block me in. "Oh, this can't be good," I whispered.

"Dean, listen to me. You have to go."

"If it was me would you listen?" I volleyed, ignoring the black cloud and turning back to Sam - who remained on his ass - accepting his fate.

"It isn't you, Dean. It's me and I'm telling you to get away from me! I don't want you here. Get out or I'll-"

"Dean… must hurry," Cas's voice interrupted. "Stay much longer… be lost…have Sam? Go. Beach. Only place. Say it…Dean… must…the word."

"Lost?" Sam stared at me. "You could get lost inside of me? Dean! You could die here?"

I shrugged my shoulders, brushing Sam off, knowing I might already be half-way there.

"Cas," Sam yelled upward. "You have to get him out of here, now."

Cas didn't answer, but I did. "Not leaving you alone in hell, Sam. I'm just not."

Sam's weighty gaze met back with mine. "Dean, damn you, what's the word?"

I clenched my teeth together and offered Sam a cheesy smile. Kid was following the bouncing ball again - no matter how wacky. I wasn't saying the word. Not until I figured out how to get past this wall and get to Sam.

"What. Is. The. Word. Dean," Sam panted for breath.

"Forgot," I said, putting hard-steel in my voice.

"This is my hell to live, Dean," Sam swallowed, reaching a hand up to shakily grip at his shirt collar, pulling it away from the burns on his neck. "Tell me the word."

"Word." I grinned, deciding to go back to tunneling under the wall. Was the only thing that semi-worked.

Sam let go his shirt and punched out at the wall angrily. "Dude, that's not the word."

"You like Haagen Daz better, man?" I hurled a jagged piece of rock out of my way.

"How about you stop messing around, Dean, and say the right word."

"How about you shut up, Sam. Help me out a little." I raised my eyes to him. "Use your head again. Ha." I went back to tossing fistful after fistful of dirt and rock and hell off to one side. "Word won't work here, anyway, you heard Cas," I added seriously.

"You don't know that," Sam argued.

I stopped digging for a second, staring at my bloody hands. _I knew. Whether I knew or not, I knew. I wasn't saying that word. Not until I had Sam firm in my grasp._

Sam sighed heavily, "I'm stuck in here, Dean. Forever."

"Thank you, Captain Cynic," I growled, making the hole bigger, but not big enough. "Sam, just help me. Now!" I commanded like dad, and for some odd reason Sam responded.

We both dug, fast and furious, like we were a couple of actors in a Steven Spielberg film in search of rare dinosaur bones.

"Sam, I think this is working," I said, swiping the back of my hand across my forehead "Keep at it," I huffed, working harder. "We're nearly broken through." Just a few more inches and I'd be able to grasp Sam's hand. At this pace, with both of us digging, I could pull Sam through in a matter of fifteen minutes.

Hope suddenly dashed out of sight and sank my heart, when I heard several loud growls fill the air. I peered up, past Sam, who kept right on digging.

"Crapcrapcrap." Monstrous creatures broke up through the ground out of their graves.

"It's starting again," Sam said with a dullness that made me sick as he stopped digging and sat back on his hunches, still not bothering to look at the gang of misfits heading his way.

"Keep going." I went back to my hole, but there was no hole. Damn thing was whisked away. Once again filled in as if all our hard work never existed. I couldn't say a word. What could I say? I cast a terrified gaze at Sam.

"You have to go, Dean," Sam said softly. "You can't stop them."

Sam didn't move a muscles, he had no intention what-so-ever on trying to defend himself.

"Watch me!" I jumped up, raising a boot and kicking at the wall. "We don't give up!" I shouted at Sam. "You have to fight."

Sam's eyes filled with tears. "I can't."

"Yes, you can!" I feverishly kicked out again, but the wall held strong. I took a second to check out the creatures that were closing in. They were all the same height - tall. They all had the same build - brawny. They all had the same kind of hair - floppy brown. They all had the same face - nerdy. They all looked like Sam, and they all marched toward him like the warriors of hell they were.

"Sam, they-"

"I know," he said calmly as if he'd been through this a million times before - and hadn't' he?

"Fugly you," I added as each Sammy monster was covered in dirt and slime, skin rotting and eyeballs hanging by a stringy nerve.

"They walk and talk like machines, but they're all still me," Sam mumbled.

I tried to think of everything I could think of, but there was nothing I could think of. Finally I said, "Sam, they look hungry, man." Was the only thing I could think of.

"Starving," Sam said with a certainty that made my stomach pitch.

"Help me." I bent over and picked up a rock and started hammering against the wall, but all I got was a big, fat nothing.

The half-human Sam creatures were almost upon him. I couldn't stop this. "Sam, hold on. Just hold on." I searched myself for a gun, a knife, any of the usual items on my person. I had none of those. Not even a drop of holy water.

"Dean, go. Find the beach. Say the word. I don't want you to watch this," Sam whimpered. "Please," he said so lightly I barely heard.

I bent down and screamed in Sam's face, "No! No way!"

I straightened back up. The Robo Sam gang kept coming. This was going to be bad.

I got an idea. "Sammy, run. You have to run."

"Don't you think I've tried that before. It's hell, Dean," Sam said soberly.

I knew that. "I know that," I hissed, helplessly watching the Robo pack as they were nearly on top of Sam. "Son of a bitch." I threw hard punch after hard punch against the wall. "Bastards! Stay away from him. Stay away!"

I kept punching. Kept kicking. Kept yelling - didn't even know what I was yelling. I just needed crack the wall. I just needed to open one, tiny window of opportunity. All I managed to open up were my knuckles, blood trickling down my forearms.

"Dean, that's not going to work. Just go. Please, just go."

I refused to leave him, my eyes flicking to meet Sam's and telling him so. He still sat scrunched up against the wall awaiting his fate. Part of him, most of him, wanted me to go. But the other part, the scared part, needed me to stay.

I squeezed my eyes shut, sliding down to the ground and trying not to think about what was coming next. "You're my brother, Sammy." I opened my eyes

Sam tilted his head and smiled at that, just as the first Robo-Sam creature took a bite out of his left shoulder. Sam scrunched closer to the wall, desperate to be closer to me. His face a mask of pain, tears flowing as he damn near bit his lip off not to scream.

"Oh, God," I stiffened, hardly able to look, but not wanting to let Sam down by looking away.

"Get off him. Get away from him." My voice pleading, yet full of command, quiet tears rolling down my cheek.

The Robo gang pushed and pressed and bit into Sam. I shoved aside the need to vomit. The need to scream. The rage. All I could do was be with Sam. Smashed as close to him as I could get - the stupid invisible wall - between us.

"I'm here. I'm here. I'm here, Sammy," I whispered over and over.

"Deee!" Sam cried out, slapping a dirt-covered hand up against the clear wall, droplets of blood rolling down like rain.

"I'm here. Pal. I'm here. Right here." I flattened my palm to his.

The moment I did, a glowing white-hot light erupted between us, the ground quaked and the wall cracked. First, instinct told me to pull back, something was wrong, but instead I pushed against the wall further. The light grew brighter, the wall spider webbing like busted glass.

"Nuh," Sam cried out again as another freakish douche latched onto his calf, biting with teeth and clawing with nails. "Deeeean!" His back arched, hand slipping limply away from the wall.

The glowing light blinked out like a dead flashlight and the ground stilled.

I shook my head. Was this real? Had I just seen what I'd seen. I took a double take at the wall. Bitch was cracked. Sam and I were connected by heart, could we also be connected by soul?

"Sam. Sam," I begged for his attention. "I need your hand."

"Guh," Sam gave a gut-wrenching howl as yet another Robo-freak bit into his back.

"Your hand. Sammy! Bring your hand back up to the wall." I lifted my hand, slapping it back to the wall for emphasis. "Do it now."

Sam gurgled and wavered, eyes rolling uncontrolled to the back of his head, chin dipping to his chest.

"Sam! Your hand! Bring your hand back up to the wall." I screamed. "Your hand, Sammy!"

Sam raised his drooping head, terror and pain distorting his face, but he managed to do as I asked. Lifting his right hand, he smacked it with force - a bloody palm butted against mine.

Instantly the light was back, stronger than ever. I didn't know what was happening, but could feel the power surging through us. Our souls combining. Maybe.

The creatures continued to peck at Sam's flesh like vultures.

As the light grew brighter, Sam grew weaker. Hanging his head, he bit into his lip, refusing to cry. Fighting back the urge to thrash about, desperate not to break the slightest contact with me. _Was I doing the right thing? This had to be right. It felt right._

I choked back a sob of my own, dropping my head down low to match Sam's, so he could see me. "Hold tough, Sam. Hold tough."

Sam gave a slow nod, his body dripping blood.

I looked on helplessly. Throat tight. Body chilled. Watching my baby brother's hell. Overwhelmed by the amount of pain I could read in his face. I didn't know how much longer Sam could hold out. The ever-growing light started to burn hotter and we both yelped from the heat.

Fire burns. First degree. Second degree. Third degree. But this wasn't any normal fire. Maybe this was love's fire. A degree so hot there was no stopping it.

Just when I thought this wasn't going to work, there came a huge cracking sound, the spider web spreading like wildfire all over the wall.

Totally weakened, Sam's hand suddenly went limp, falling away from mine.

"Nooooooo." I pressed further against the wall, my shout lost as the bitch came down, and I nearly fell to my face as I lost the support I'd been leaning against.

Sam, too, lurched forward.

I quickly recovered, catching Sam as he dropped like a sack of rocks into my arms. "Gottcha. I gottcha." I gripped the back of his wobbly head, drawing him close to my chest and hunching over him for protection. I waited, expecting the fallout of debris, but there was none. "Huh?" I took a breath, not realizing I'd been holding it, and eased back off of Sam. "But how?" I scanned the area. The graves were in tack, monster Sam's gone. I reached out, testing, the wall was gone too. All was quiet.

"D'n." Sam panted for breath, wiggling in my hold.

"I got you back with me?" I questioned, spitting dirt from my mouth.

"Wha' happen?" Was all Sam got out before his eyes rolled and he went limp.

"Guess not," I answered my previous question for my self, then answered Sam's, "The Winchester's happened, buddy, that's what. "Real question is, what now?"

I took in the mess that was Sam. He was bleeding badly. In the real world, he'd have been dead already. I had no first aid kit. Did I need one? Would he turn whole again? This was no beach, but I hoped the word might work now that the wall appeared to be gone. Too many questions, not enough answers. "Story of my life," I snuffed. "Come on, pal." I pulled Sam up higher onto my lap, being sure I had a good hold of him. Should Cas actually be able to fly us out on his magic carpet ride, I didn't need Sam slipping out of my fingers somewhere over Saskatchewan - Canada sucked this time of year. "Let's shag ass, little brother."

I said the word.

TBC…


	5. Jumping Out Of Hell

**Chapter five …**

**AN: Thank you, everyone, so very much! For all the wonderful and all the amazing support of this kooky dream! I am most sincerely grateful - with all my heart.**

/~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~/

I stayed on the ground, Sam cradled close to me and said the word three more times. Still, we hadn't been kicked loose from Sam's hell.

I thought about getting up and clicking my heels together three times, but guessed that only worked in the movies, and besides, I was no pigtailed chick who carried a friggin' fruit basket. The longer we sat here, the more of a gamble we were taking. Hell never stayed quiet. The sound of my blood rushing in my ears, would soon be replaced with terror-filled screams. We couldn't stay here much longer, but right now Sam wasn't going anywhere. His whole body was trembling, his clothes were shredded and blood seemed to ooze out from everywhere, running down to the ground and soaking into my pants.

"Sam?" His eyes were closed, and he didn't respond. "Sammy?" I brought a palm up to hover over his mouth and nose. He was breathing, but not by much. Two fingers pressed to his neck told me one thing, Sam was close to being dead. I frantically peered into the darkness. "Gotta get you out of here. Cas!" I called loudly, my voice sailing off into the darkness. I waited a minute but got no answer. "Castiel, damn it, answer me!"

Still no answer.

Looked like we only had one option. If I wanted to keep Sam alive, we had to haul ass to that beach. Sam was a giant, even in his own mind, and there was no way I was carrying him. I'd have to drag him. Still not an easy task.

"Let's go, Sasquatch." I lifted Sam up, leaning him forward a little so I could get a good grip under his arms.

"Nuuu." Sam roused, letting out a wet and painful gasp.

"Shush, I hushed him. "Sorry, sorry, dude." I gently lowered him back to my lap, the squish of blood causing me to clench my teeth together so I wouldn't throw up, leaving a sick lump of bile stuck in my throat.

"D'n?" Sam looked surprised to see me and tried to sit up on his own.

"Hold still." I sternly pressed him back. What was I thinking? In my panic, I wasn't thinking. Sammy was in no shape to be dragged anywhere. "I have to stop this bleeding." I hurried to take my jacket off intending to use that and my shirt, when Sam stopped me with a feeble hand to my arm.

"Dean, no," he breathed harshly. "Don't."

"What do you mean, don't?" I pressed the heel of my free hand to his torn-open, right shoulder.

"Guh," Sam cried, his eyes going empty and cold as he wiggled beneath my touch.

"Hey, hey, easy." I grimaced, unable to decide which was worse, that look in his eyes, or the blood seeping up between my fingers.

Sam frantically glanced around. "They're gone?"

"Yeah, pal, the legion of douchebags is gone," I said reassuringly. "Now let me check you out." I tried to pull away from his grip, but he held on a little stronger now.

"I'll heal in a few minutes, Dean," Sam said softly. "Hell-" He took in a breath, then let it out slowly. "Re- remember?" he trembled harder.

I studied Sam's face, dripping with sweat and blood and exhaustion. "Yep," I said, having trouble swallowing the lump of bile in my throat.

I remembered. Bursting into flames, being torn apart, bleeding buckets, only to come back and do it all over again ten minutes later. This was where the real and the unreal got hazy - for both of us. I was just as much apart of Sam's hell as he was, feeling my brother's every pain. Inner pain, outer pain, didn't matter. Sam in pain always made it hard for me to think straight.

Frustrated there was nothing more to do, but wait, I grabbed a fistful of dirt - the only thing left of the invisible wall in Sam's mind. The wall I was pretty damn sure he'd built. Or soulless douche built. Or Jack built. Maybe Humpty Dumpty built. But why? So Sam could fall or be pushed off. For punishment? A lame attempt at easing his crushing guilt and shame. Guilt and shame he barely remembered, but could still feel eating away at his returned soul. Maybe it just didn't matter why anymore. The wall was down, and I was getting Sam back where he belonged - with me.

"Dean, you doing okay?" Sam squinted up at me, still holding my arm.

I hated when he asked me stupid crap like that. Of course I wasn't okay, but it wasn't me I cared much about. I let the dirt sift through my fingers, then ran a trembling hand down my face, not caring about the grainy bits of hell that stuck there.

"A guy could go crazy here, trying to figure out your mind, Sammy."

"That what your problem's been all these years?" Sam gave a small, breathy laugh, then got serious. "H-how'd you get me out? The word?" he murmured, finally releasing his hold on my jacket, his arm slipping limp to the ground.

My stomach churned. "I am awesome, but not that awesome." I picked up Sam's blood-soaked arm and lay it across his abdomen, holding it there. "The word, it doesn't work here, man, I tried three times," I informed duly, glad Sam was out cold when I'd said it. "We're connected somehow. By blood. By family. By soul. Man, I don't know, Sammy, but when our hands met the wall fell You remember the glowing light?"

Sam nodded yes.

"Was us. Our combined energy or something, but don't thank me, we're not back over the rainbow yet, Tinker Bell."

"Dorothy, and not thanking you." Sam squeezed his eyes shut, gasping. "Crap, still…arrrhhg…hurts."

"What do you mean you're not thanking me? I am a genius." I lay a hand to his heaving chest, lamely rubbing and asking, "Where?"

"Every-guh-" Sam braced hard against me. "Everywhere."

"Where most, dude?" I only had two hands, and one of them was holding Sam secure in my lap.

"Lower back." Sam rolled to his side, reaching a hand around.

"Here, let me." As gently as I could, I slid his shirt up.

"Uhhh," Sam yowled, every muscle in his body quivering as air hit flesh.

I tensed up. "That's a bad one, Sammy." I stared helplessly at a deep, jagged, blood- gushing wound.

Sam blinked repeatedly, tears catching in his lashes. "'S okay, Dean." He took in a ragged breath, sagging further against me. "Jus-" another ragged breath. "Jus' talk 'bout something for-for minute."

"Yeah, okay, Sammy." I wiped the sweat off his forehead with the palm of my hand.

Kid was courageous. More than I'd ever been during my tour. Hell of a thing, hell. Dying was your painkiller, but that never lasted long. Before you knew it - bam - you were whole and alive and in pain again. And Sam wasn't willing to leave here. What a crock. I kept staring at Sam's wound, nausea and dizziness taking over.

"Dean," Sam grunted, shifting his weight.

"Uh-huh." The wound had at least stopped gushing, the jagged edges now puckering red and finally starting to close on their own.

"You're not talk-" Sam coughed. "Talking."

"Bastards," I cursed, lowering his shirt.

"Why?"

Sam's head was turned away, so I couldn't read his expression. "Why what?" I asked.

"Why didn't the word work?

"Guess Cas was right, we need to hit the beach. Then I'll say the word and get you back to your drooling, dorky self," I laughed.

"No."

"No?" I frowned sternly.

"I don't want to go home, Dean," Sam said, turning his head away further.

"What am I supposed to do. Let you wander around on your own, locked in here forever?"

"Yes."

"That's not happening."

"I don't want to go with you."

"Yeah, I got that before. Too bad," I barked, issue settled.

"Leave," Sam raised his voice.

"No."

"Dean." Sam shook his head. "You can't stay here. What's the word?" Sam asked slyly, as if him saying it would work.

I smirked. Sam was out cold, and didn't hear me shout the word. Good. Did baby brother think I was stupid? He knew damn well I would Krazy Glue myself to him. Haul him all over hell's landscape by his long shaggy hair if I had to. I was going to find that beach and say the word. I knew what Sam was thinking. Could see the plan plain as the busted nose on his face.

"Why do you want to know the word? So the minute we hit the sand and I say it, you can cut-and-run before Cas can latch onto you. Beam me back to our sucky lives and leave you here?"

"So," Sam said flippantly.

Apparently he thought he belonged here. That pissed me off.

"What do you think the word is?" I challenged angrily, briefly checking the graves again and noting all was thankfully still quiet.

"I think it's bullshit," Sam snapped.

"I think you're right," I snapped back.

Sam struggled to sit up, pushing a little ways away from me, obviously to weak, still, to do much else.

I stayed on the ground where I was and said nothing, just glared at him. All this go- around-in circles, arguing, seemed to be helping Sam gain his strength back - adrenaline maybe - the wounds healing faster, blood drying.

"I mean it." Sam kicked at my boot with his blood drabbled one. "I don't want you here."

Sam was being an obnoxious bitch. I could be an obnoxious bitch too.

I pressed my lips together, keeping my mouth shut. Wasn't going to say the word again or any word for that matter. Sam knew that. I kept my eyes locked on his, mentally cursing him for beating himself up like this. We continued to stare at one another. Neither one of us saying a word or blinking for a very long time. A Winchester standoff. A childhood game I always won at.

As expected, Sam broke first. Blinking and slowly shaking his head. "Damn it, Dean." Sam scooted back away from me some more.

I got his guilt. His shame. His pain. Still the rejection hurt. I wouldn't live my life without him. If Sam planned on staying, so did I. He knew that too. It would kill us both, but - a light bulb popped on in my head.

"I'm a bug," I blurted out.

"What are you talking about?" Sam shook his head, bangs falling into his eyes. "Have you lost your mind, Dean?"

"Pretty much." I gave Sam a satisfied smile. "Lost it to you. This standoff is over, bro," I said with confidence. "I'm a bug. An infection," I explained. "Cas told me your freaky, giant-sized body," I waved a hand skyward, "Is rejecting me, Sam. I'm a friggin' germ, and I'm killing you."

"Or I'm killing you." Sam looked at me, eyebrows hiking high. "You think I'm stupid, Dean? That's not possible."

"Please. And me being inside your head is?"

Sam gave me another disgusted look.

I pasted on my 'this isn't some random fact I pulled out of my ass' face. "Cas told me if I don't get out of you soon-" I pointed a finger back-and forth between us. "I probably won't wake up. So, I'm not leaving, unless you come with me. Both of us, Sammy. We leave together…or both of our brains will turn into cottage cheese." I dipped my head. "You do remember how you hate cottage cheese?"

Sam pulled another face.

"They'll put us in a room with matching bedpans, Sam. Hook us up to machines. The fruit market brothers. Get it?"

Took a minute, but Sam's hiked brows turned into a deep frown realizing I wasn't shooting him the bull.

"Vegetable market."

"Whatever," I sighed, baby brother had been correcting me since he was three, think I'd be used to it by now.

"How could you do that to yourself, you jerk," he scolded.

"Easy, bitch." I waved a hand indicating Sam's prison inside his head. "No one deserves this kind of hell. I'm getting you out, or I'm staying with; which means neither of us gets out," I recapped, yet again.

Sam lowered his eyes. "Fine, Dean," he responded a little to quickly for my tastes.

"That's it? Fine, Dean?" I eyed Sam suspiciously. Kid never gave up that easy

"Yeah, fine, I'm not going to be your pine box for all eternity, Dean."

"Ha, ha," I groaned. "So you're just giving in."

"So I'm just giving in," Sam said, his face still waxy and drawn.

"Great." I narrowed my eyes.

"Great," Sam mimicked.

"Can you make it to your feet now?" I asked softly, change of subject.

"To my feet, sure, any farther-" Sam shrugged.

"Don't worry, I gottcha, little brother." I hooked my hands under Sam's armpits and heaved him up. He wobbled unstably beside me. "You remember your way around this freaked-up joint?" I huffed, moving to anchor him against my side, wrapping an arm around his waist.

"Not too sure." Sam took a few unsteady steps. "You?"

"Absolutely." I helped him along. "Beach is this way, I'm sure of it," I said with utmost confidence.

We turned up and down dark corridors and winding roads. Neither of us saying a word.

Sam was planning something. I could tell. So what if I did drag him back to the real world, and he came out of his coma-like stupor. I couldn't watch him twenty-four hours a day. A guy has to sleep, piss, once in a while make nookie - all the things I didn't want to do with a baby brother handcuffed to my wrist. I had to find a way to get through to this kid. Or he'd do something stupid on the outside, that equaled or rivaled the mess he was on the inside.

/~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~/

Sam and I continued to grope along where the wall had once been, keeping to the shadows. Not that that was hard to do, as everything around us was shaded in gray. The busted up wall that was here before, was now pulverized into yellow dust, save for a few jagged rocks and cracked blocks that somehow survived. I marveled at what just one touch between us could do. How connected Sam and I really were. In the distance, I could still hear the thrum of his heartbeat. That was a good sign. Heavy smoke swirled in the air and our heels kept sticking - in what I'd come to call, mud - slowing us down.

Sam was walking on his own now, hands scrunched into fists and muscles tense. Surprisingly enough, he kept real close to me, but I continued to keep watch anyway, just in case. In case of what? I had no clue at this point.

Sam couldn't take his eyes off the wall, canvassing the wreckage as if he'd find some important discovery.

"You okay?" I cautiously asked.

Sam turned to me, a puzzled look on his face. "This is what was supposed to hold hell at bay?"

"Yeah." I bit my lip, thinking how crazy this all was, and not wanting to tell Sam my theory about his subconscious, soulless self playing a big role here. Though, I suspected, he knew.

"Huh." Sam looked back at the destruction. "Death wasn't much of a do-it-yourselfer was he?" he gave a light laugh.

I smiled, we really were connected. "Man, I've seen sandcastles that were more state of the art," I laughed playing along.

"Speaking of Sand, Dean, how do you know we're going in the right direction?"

"Dude, you're talking to the dude who can pull a royal straight flush out of his -"

"Shirt sleeve." Sam rolled his eyes in a amusement.

Truth was, I didn't know if this was the right direction and I'd only pulled a royal straight flush out of my…'eh… shirt sleeve… one time in my life. More truth - Sam's grapefruit was a big place. I always knew that, but actually being here confirmed it.

We continued to wander the labyrinth, traces of Sam's past randomly flashing around us. Pieces of dreams, buried thoughts and memories coming into play like some mixed up movie. Some memories were good. Funny. Cute even. Others were bad and downright scary. Some things Sam probably didn't even remember, nor wanted to remember, until they were brought front and center.

Sam trudged by my side like he was sleepwalking, only he wasn't sleeping. He was obviously trying not to let the memories get to him. I had to give my brother credit. He kept a tight grip on himself, his composure better than my own as we kept moving forward. My composure was slipping as the thrum of Sam's heart seemed to have lessened over the last hour. Periodically, I cocked my head, totally having to strain to even hear the rhythm.

"What is that annoying thrumming noise, anyway?" Sam questioned, obviously seeing me trying to tune in.

I looked to Sam, not sure I wanted to tell him, but did. "It's your heartbeat. Outside you's heartbeat," I clarified.

Sam seemed to consider that a moment, putting his hand to his chest directly over his heart. "Doesn't sound so good." He said, matter of fact, like it wasn't even him he was talking about.

"It's fine! You're fine," I blurted, rushing ahead of him a little so he couldn't read the worry I knew to be splattered all over my face.

"What if we can't find the beach in time?" Sam asked, catching up fast.

"Then we make one," I snarled, using my 'give 'em hell' tone. "I'm sure there's something inside this vault of knowledge we can find to use."

"Yeah, sure, Dean. Only need maybe a trillion tons of rock, shells, and coral, not to mention a few thousand years of erosion."

"Nerd!" I picked up my pace.

Sam opened his mouth, but didn't get out a word.

Flash.

Click.

Click.

"Oh, no, here we go again," I groaned, stopping in my tracks.

Sam's hand slid from his chest and his jaw dropped, his composure suddenly gone.

"Sammy? What? What is it?"

He didn't answer, just whipped around and walked a few paces back the way we'd came.

I stepped closer to Sam, following his concentrated gaze, certain this was not going to be some delicious, slathered in buttercream, sweetheart of a dream.

"What is that?" I stared at a patch of swirling dense fog, then heard a grunt like a pigs.

"This is bad," Sam whispered.

"Saaam?"

More barnyard grunting came, followed by the overwhelming smell of ammonia, and sawdust, and - lets just say it wasn't roses.

"Yikes." Realization hit hard, and I took Sam roughly by the shoulder spinning him toward me. "Tell me that," I pointed a finger at the fog, "Is not what I think it is." I dipped my head, forcing him to look me in the eye "Is it?"

"Pigman," Sam stated shakily, a freaked out look on his face.

I swallowed hard. "Sam, Pigman was just a dream." I clamped down on his shoulders. "He's not real, Sammy," I said giving him a little shake, hoping to pull him out of the nightmare that was about to come alive. "There's no such thing." If I could get Sam to believe that; which I never could when he was a kid, maybe Pigman would believe it too.

There came more grunting and sloppy snorting noises, followed by the squishing sound of what I knew to be four-toed, hoofed feet tramping through mud. "No such luck, huh, Sammy?" I stared back into the fog, but couldn't see anything. "Sam, it's a dream." I squeezed his shoulders harder.

Sam shook his head, disbelieving, his lips pressed tight together, eyes popping wide. How could a grown man of 6'4", suddenly look all of eight?

The rustling in a nearby bush distracted me from any further speech, putting an uneasy feeling burning in my gut. Sam raised a finger to his lips and shushing me with the other.

"He's hungry," Sam said in a trembling voice, his head whipping around to the sound of steel-trap jaws snapping.

"Dean!" Sam's eyes bulged farther out of his head. "Run!" He yelled, bolting from my grasp.

"Sam, stop," I shouted, immediately racing after him.

Kid was fast, and sure footed as he fled through the damp swampland. He'd run this gauntlet before. As I recalled, Sam dreamt this every night for two months when he was eight. He'd wake in a cold sweat, screaming and out of breath. Only thing that got him to calm down was me crawling into bed with him, and holding him tight until morning.

I could hear Pigman behind us. Grunting and sloshing through the mud in an unhurried way. Stalking. I remembered Sam's recount of the dream. Pigman was a thigh man, and if he got a hold of your legs - you were a goner.

I followed Sam around a crop of prehistoric looking Cypress trees, their long, furry tendrils damn near wrapping around my neck and choking me. I shoved the branches aside, trying to keep my sights on Sam.

"Sam, wait damn it," I yelled, struggling to keep up with his long legs.

Sam didn't seem to hear me as he fled from his nightmare, dodging trees and boulders, that cropped up out of nowhere. Every now and again, he'd glance back, strands of hair plastered to his sweaty face.

All I could do was follow. Splashing through the soggy sludge of thick weeds and swamp grass. Sam vanished from my sight just as something bounced out of the shadows and latched onto my right calf.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaargh," I shrieked in pain as I was drug to the ground.

When Pigman bites, he does not like to let go. I stared down my body at the swine. He had arms and legs just like a human. A human that friggin' outweighed me by one-hundred pounds. His face wasn't human, however, it was that of a pig. Pudgy and pink with erect ears and an elongated snout that dripped green snot. Beady, black eyes pierced mine, and I swore the bastard smiled around my leg in his mouth.

"Looks like pig, smells like pig, wonder if you taste like bacon?" I kicked him hard in the face with my free leg, using the toe of my boot.

Porky squealed, letting go for a second, and I crabwalked back away from him. Where Sam came up with such a creature was beyond me.

"Geeze, Sammy, didn't you ever see the movie Babe?" Pigman wasn't some terrific, radiant, humble pig. He was mean and he was hungry and he had a hold of my leg again, ripping into my pants like a lion eating lamb chops. "Gaw." Warm blood dripped from Pigman's mouth - my blood. The sight made me want to hurl. He moved from my calf higher up to my thigh - his favorite part - biting in deep. Aaaaaaaaahhhhh!" I flopped to my back, fighting beneath him, but his massive, pot roast of a body kept me pinned. All I could do was wiggle and worm and try to keep from passing out. "S-S-Saaaaaam," I cried.

And like in a dream, there Sam was, standing over Pigman, aiming a gun right at his back. "Dean, don't move." Sam squeezed the trigger and let loose three shots.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

Pigman squealed, his steel jaws unlocked and he ran off into the shadows, taking a chunk of my leg with him.

"Dean." Sam dropped down by my leg, and I could see the panic on his face.

"It's not bad, Sammy," I panted breathlessly, fighting the black swarm blocking my vision. "Just give me a band-aid," I choked. "Shit, where'd you get the gun?"

"Don't know, just was there when I reached for it." Sam quickly wrapped both hands around my thigh and put the pressure on.

As soon as he touched me a bright light exploded and the pain stopped, my breathing steadied and my vision cleared.

I sat up, just in time to see Sam's eyes go unfocused and roll as he went slack, falling into my arms. "Sam!" I grabbed hold of him and forced him upright. "Come on now, stay awake." Sam's breathing was shallow and he slit his eyes open to peer at me. "What's going on, man?" I looked down at my leg. It was totally healed, ripped jeans and all.

That was twice now laying on hands had pulled us out of the fire. But it wasn't me who had the power here, I realized. It was Sam. This was his head after all.

Sam moaned, a small cry coming from his lips. "Hey, hey, hey." I cupped his lolling head, and patted his cheek. Sam's lids fluttered as he fought his eyes open to slits. He looked a wreck. Weak and shaky in my hold. "You okay? What was that?" I asked.

Sam didn't answer, and everything was super quiet. I couldn't even hear the thrum of his weak heart.

"Work with me here, Sam." If I was ever going to set Sam free from this place, he had to help. It was going to take both of our efforts. These dreams, his hell, was killing him from the inside out. "Sam, talk to me." I patted his cheek harder.

"I-I just need to…we-" Sam eyes flared open, going from glazed to fully aware as he

jerked out of my hold. "Dean."

There came a tremendous pounding. Loud and echoing. His heart rate out of control from the sound of it.

Sam held a hand to his chest. "I-I can't."

"Sam?" I leaned in closer to him. "What is it? What can't you do?"

Flash.

Click.

Click.

"Oh, son of a bitch, not again."

We were running. Side-by-side. Something had our scent and was hot on our heels. I could feel claws whistle past my eardrums, the unseen thing spitting and growling- the damnation, destruction, and desolation of hell closing in on our backs.

I glanced over at Sam, his face was horror struck and dripping sweat. Sam stumbled, his long legs like wet noodles under him. I wanted to stop running, but something told me we had to keep going. Time was running out. I gripped Sam by the arm, holding him upward as we ran through the soggy, gray sludge. We ran erratically without destination. Where were we going? What did Sam need to find?

"This way." Sam darted right as if some unknown spirit was summoning him.

We came to a sudden halt. My boots slid through the mud tipping over the edge of an enormous chasm, Sam right beside me.

"Guh," Sam cried out, nearly going over the edge.

I caught us both, one arm latched onto Sam's, the other flying out and twirling around to balance our bodies, keep us from going over. "Holy crap," I panted out of breath, peering down as stones clattered and echoed into the abyss.

I glanced across to the other side. There was no other side. I looked behind me. There was no behind me. No left or right either. There was just us. Me and Sam. Teetering on the edge of…on the edge of…on the edge of…

"Hell," Sam uttered under his breath.

Air rushed up out of the darkness to greet us. It was warm and fragrant and smelled of salt. The swirling darkness made me dizzy. They - whoever 'they' are - say not to look down, but looking down was the only place too look. As I stared into the blackness, there came a nagging in the back of my head. I looked over at Sam, who also, couldn't stop looking down at the giant, black hole. "Sammy, what are we doing here?"

"I-I- I can't. Dean, I can't."

I shook my head in confusion and looked back at the pit, hearing outer-Sam's heart stammering. Through the darkness, I saw a very small point of light. Orange light, accompanied by, what I swore to be island music. Barbie's beach? Maybe. Only one way to find out.

"Sam," I turned to my freaked out brother. "We have to jump."

"No." Sam stiffened, his toes still hanging over the edge, but he didn't make a move to step back, just kept looking down.

"Sam, it's the only way." I cringed, not sure what Sam was seeing.

"C-can't," he whispered.

I took his hand and he finally looked away from the pit, staring at me with teary eyes. The same teary eyes that I'd seen just before the wall fell.

I smiled and squeezed his hand, giving him silent encouragement.

Bro, we can't stay here.

Jumping into hell was the scariest thing anyone could have done. Sam had done it without thinking or even blinking. He'd just stepped right up to hell and jumped. Because he knew it was the right thing to do.

Jumping out of hell, hurt and broken, soul skinned alive - not as easy.

"Sam we'll die here. This is it. We have to go."

Sam's gaze drifted, bouncing around the area. His body was trembling and I'd never seen him look so scared. Even being eaten alive by your soulless self, didn't compare.

Sam turned back to me. "Head first or feet first?" he asked, his voice as shaky as he was.

"Swan dive, naturally," I tried for humor, falling flat - pun intended.

"Naturally," Sam swallowed.

I gripped Sam's hand tighter. "I won't let go of you, Sam. I won't. You're not alone this time."

Sam gave me the 'I know' look. "Okay." He nodded.

We turned back to the pit, neither of us taking our eyes off the other as we took a simultaneous breath and launched ourselves off the ledge and into the hole.

Flash

Click.

Click.

TBC….

/~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~/


	6. Tabasco Sauce and Handcuffs

Chapter six - Conclusion.

AN: Again, I can not thank everyone enough for such welcome of such a far-out dream. Millions of stars, thank you!

Warning: Epilogue could be considered a tissue warning - not horrible, however, but I find it fair to label it: **Read At Your Own Risk.**

**/~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~/**

Something cold and wet surged up my nose and I bolted awake. "Finally," I choked and sputtered, watching the slow roll of blue and white surf lap against sand. "Pay dirt." I spit tiny grains out of my mouth. "I mean sand."

I let my gaze roam along the shoreline.

Sun and sand.

Sand and sun.

Sand. Sand.

More sand.

Sam sprawled lifeless on his back a few feet away from me, waves rolling over his feet.

"Crap," I yelped, half-crawling, half-running across the sand. "Sam." Tripping, I slammed to my knees next to him. Sam's eyes were closed, and he looked dead. "Damn it." Sick of checking the kid for a pulse, I went for the immediate reaction, grabbing him by the shirt collar and shaking. Sam's head uselessly flopped against the sand, but nothing more. "Sam!" I shook him twice as hard. "Sammy." Another rough shake.

"What?" Sam snapped to attention, coughing gritty sand and saltwater right in my face.

I hung my head, releasing a long breath. "You're killing me, here, bro," I complained, wiping Sammy drool off my face, and composing myself. "Come on." I yanked us upright, keeping hold of Sam's shirt as we both wobbled to gain balance. "You're okay." Was as much of a question as it was an order.

"Yeah, you?" Sam responded.

"Always."

I scanned the area. As far as the eye could see, the place was deserted. The only sound was the roll of the Caribbean-blue surf hitting sugar white sand. The sun was setting bright orange and warm, fringed palm trees rustling in the sweet clean breeze.

"Paradise on a postcard. Only thing missing is Bikini Barbie, or, not-in bikini Barbie," I griped, releasing my hold of Sam now that we both seemed to have our beach legs.

"Dude," Sam huffed, "My attic." He tapped a finger against his temple. "Not yours."

"Oh, yeah, forgot, nerd city," I snickered, looking all around again. "So where's all the checker playing grandpa's? Or are we here to guard Sea Turtle eggs, while standing on our heads chanting the mystic word, om," I mumbled in disappointment.

Sam didn't answer, he was staring up the beach with a far-off look in his eyes.

"So, obviously this is the place Cas was talking about. Time to go home, Skippy." I reached for Sam.'

"Toto." Sam took a step out of my reach, still staring past me.

"Now what?" I frowned. "Someone release the Kracken? God knows it wasn't you. Ha." I turned to follow Sam's gaze, my laughter fading at what I saw.

The sillhouetted form of a well-muscled, rugged looking man slowly walked along the edge of the water. His jeans were cuffed just below the knees and he carried both his shoes in one hand. His shadow stretched before him - bigger than life - leading two small boys, trailing not far behind him.

A father and his sons.

Both boys followed along, trying hard to match their father's footprints in the sand, before a wave would come and erase the print. The older boy sometimes nudged the younger aside, causing him to falter and miss a step. He was a tough little dude, catching up fast and shoving the older jerk back - tit-for-tat - a sort of game of tag. Every now and again, the father whipped around, bent down and cupped the water - a surprise attack - shooting ocean spray at the boys, who tried to duck out of the way.

This went on for a while. The squeal of laughter - buckets of happy - the older kid always moving in front of the younger, taking the brunt of their father's playful training.

After awhile, the father sat down in the sand, legs scissored. The oldest joined him first, sitting between the man's legs and leaning against his chest for support, then the younger followed suite - a sort of choo-choo train - chain of command. All three were quiet now, staring out at sea as a sailboat bounced upon the waves, white sails flapping in the wind.

The scene looked so natural, so normal, so - my mouth hung open in shock.

"Dad," Sam whispered next to me, not willing to take his eyes off the scene.

"Sam?" I scowled, noting his eyes burning with tears.

"I remember this day, Dean."

I looked back to the tiny family. "Yeah, me, too. Think you were six."

"Was mom's birthday." Sam said wistfully. "Dad brought us here and we spent the whole day. Picnic lunch. Tossing a Nerf football around. Building castles in the sand." He swiped a tear away. "One of the few times we just got to be a family." Sam smiled at me. "Except for mom not being there, it was perfect. I wanted to stay forever."

I nodded. "Had to drag your ass to the car, and you cried like a sissy the whole way back to the motel room."

Sam shrugged. "Was a good day."

"Yeah, Sammy," I agreed quietly. "Was a good day."

"Great day to be alive, hey boys?" Came a happy-go-lucky male voice from behind.

Sam and I jolted, spinning around and shocked to see a half-bald, sun-baked man, probably in his mid-sixties, lounging in a beach chair. He wore a brightly colored Hawaiian shirt, baggy shorts, and his feet were bare.

He saluted us with his drink, sucking on a long straw. "Stuff just tastes better when you drink it out of a coconut shell," he said, going back to sucking.

"Sammy, you know this guy?"

Sam shook his head, no, unable to take his eyes off the beach comber.

"And who are you supposed to be?" I snipped, instincts telling me anyone who could pull off that look was not someone I needed to put a bullet in. Not that I had any bullets, but Sammy might.

"Oh, sorry, how rude of me." The man set his coconut in the sand. "Shouldn't drink in front of guests."

"Guests?" I raised my brows.

"I'd offer you something," he smiled, his eyes sparkling, "But I think you boys need to stay sharp." He buried his nose back in a book he'd been reading.

I glanced around. There was no one else here. No Tiki bar, no motel, no volley ball net, no Beach Barbie. My gaze landed back on our mystery man, licking his thumb and turning a page.

"Hey." I snapped my fingers. "Jimmy Buffet, I'll ask you again… who are you?" Maybe Sam just didn't remember this guy. Maybe he was a friend of dads.

Buffet book marked his place, and set his paperback aside. "Beautiful beach, don't you think?" He stared out to sea. "You know you can swim with the dolphins anytime you want here." He looked at Sam, all nurturing like. "That would be nice. Wouldn't it, Sam?"

I drew back in surprise. "Sam?" I peered over at my brother, who continued to stare at the dude in what appeared to me to be a state of dumbfounded awe.

Confused, I turned my attention back to Buffet and checking him up and down. Was he a demon, a ghost, monster, trickster, memory, nightmare, geeky dream. He was none of those things, as I came to realize he was in full-blown-living color taking up residence on a beach, inside my brother's head.

For a moment, I felt the awe Sammy felt, but I also felt terror strike through me. What did this dude want with Sammy? I took a threatening step forward. "Who are you and what are you doing inside my brother's head?"

Buffet didn't take his eyes off Sam and said, "Who I've always been. What I've always done."

That pissed me off. "You're not answering any of my questions," I hissed.

"Not going to either," Buffet said calmly.

"Oh, that's it." I made a move to flip him out of his cozy lounge chair and put his ass in the sand.

"Dean! No." Sam took me by the arm.

I broke my gaze from Buffet, Sam's full-on puppy look and a trembling hand on my arm stopping me.

"Please. Just please," Sam begged, cocking his head at me.

"You should listen to your brother, Dean." Buffet watched us as he causally reached inside a bag of Macadamia Nuts and popped a few in his mouth. "Wouldn't want to take a ride on a roller coaster during a hurricane would you now?" He chomped, smiling the smile of a stand up comedian, his tone pleasant and composed.

"That a threat?" I scoffed, letting my eyes bore into him.

"Now, now," Buffet said in that same calm tone, that was already grating on my nerves. "I like you, Dean," he said. "You look a man in the eye and you speak from your gut, but this isn't about you. This is about Sam."

That pissed me off some more. Sam was my brother, anything about Sam was about me too. "What do you want?" I stiffened, but stayed put.

Buffet's smile faded and directed his words to Sam, "You paid the price, son, and now you must choose," he said in a soft kind voice.

"What?" My stomach flipped and I tugged away from Sam's hold.

"I don't understand," Sam said, meekly.

"I do," I lunged for Buffet again, but this time it was Buffet who stopped me with the simple flick of an index finger, tossing my ass to the sand. "Sam's not staying here with you!" I spat, trying to stand, but unable to move.

"That is up to Sam." Buffet leaned forward in his chair. "Right, Sam?"

Beside me Sam was quiet and hadn't moved a muscle. "Sammy, and I, we come as a package deal. He stays. I stay," I roared.

"You love the hell out of your brother." Buffet tapped danced smoothly around my anger.

"Damn right I do," I fired back, giving Buffet a cold, hard stare; while still trying to move my arms, my legs, my pinky toe - I got nothing.

"Damn right you do." Buffet repeated my words back to me, his blue eyes sparkling. "As you should, Dean. He's a good man, and you had a lot to do with that fact, but this is no Time Share program, son. Not right now, anyway." Buffet crumpled up his peanut bag and stuffed it in his short's pocket. "I can promise you one thing, though. When it is your turn to choose…you have the option of joining your brother here." He waved a hand around the Beach happily. "You can even add your own…shall we say… amenities." He winked. "It's your paradise."

I scanned the beach. Sure it was peaceful. Add a few conveniences, with my humor and charm, and it'd be heaven on a stick. I gave Sam a sidelong look before settling my sights back on Buffet. "Nah," I said, "You're not keeping Sam prisoner here or anywhere. I won't leave him," I yelled.

Buffet shrugged. "It doesn't work that way, Dean," he said in a straight-forward tone.

_I was sick of knocking heads with this guy. _"Let me tell you what way this works you lousy-"

"Hush, now, Dean." With another flick of his finger, a gust of wind blew, carrying with it a piece of duct tape that miraculously found its way to my lips, slapping my mouth shut.

Ignoring my protested rant behind the duct tape, Buffet got up from his chair and stepped in front of Sam. "Sam. I know you don't really want to be in hell. But…"Buffet flashed a sympathetic look. "I also know you did not accidentally come here. Your guilt and shame brought the wall down, then you built it back up around yourself."

As I listened, the lump that usually formed in my throat formed in my chest and I could barely feel my heartbeat. My feeble attempts to talk behind the tape went unnoticed.

"Even though you suffer, you feel safer behind the wall, don't you, Sam?"

Buffet was obviously hitting the nail on the head, judging by how quiet and attentive Sammy was.

"Even though you suffer, you feel you are keeping others safe," Buffet side glanced at me, "By allowing yourself to remain a prisoner of hell. I'm right. Right?"

"Yes," Sam whispered.

'Nuuu.' I managing to stomp a foot in the sand.

Buffet shot me a brief look. "You won't let your brother get you out. Yet, you're afraid to stay. You've peered inside yourself. Seen the dark cloud. All men have souls, Sammy. All men have a part of themselves deep inside that the soul's light cannot touch. A darkness. Those parts are connected. You were right when you said it was you inside your soulless body."

_This guy was drunk. What was he saying to my already freaked out brother?_

"What is it you truly seek, Sam?"

"Redemption," Sam whispered again, looking scared out of his mind.

"You don't need to search for what is already yours." Buffet placed his hand over Sam's heart.

Sam didn't budge, I don't think the kid was even breathing, staring down at Buffet's hand. "If your brother loves you enough, your friends," he shrugged, "Me, Sam… then you need to love yourself enough to forgive and forget. No good comes in destroying yourself, son. The only thing you are going to destroy is the ones you love." Buffet looked at me again with a sort of empathy I'd never experience before. "You spilled the milk all over the floor," he said to us both. "You didn't do it on purpose. But it's still sticky and you can't take it back. All you can do is your best to clean it up."

_Who was this guy? _

"You have the power," He turned back to Sam. "You don't need that wall. You have a other choices. You can take another crack at the real world. Or you can stay here with me," Buffet frowned. "Or you could jump back into hell. The freedom is yours." Buffet pressed harder against Sam's heart. "I promise this much, if you want it, your mind is fixed. You will remember everything, but you will not be destroyed as your body is now."

"I don't deserve anything," Sam muttered, hanging his head.

"Ggggaaaam." _Don't you say that. Of course you deserve it." _I tried to push the duct tape away with my tongue so I could tell him that - not a good idea.

Buffet let his hand fall away from Sam's chest. "You have so much good inside of you, Sam." He took a step back. "There is nothing I don't know, and nothing that has not already been forgiven." Sam looked oddly over at me, his forehead wrinkled with indecision.

My eyes welled. _Sam, please, no. I need you._

"Sorry, Sam. Dean can not make the choice for you," Buffet explained, going back to sit on the edge of his lounge chair. "Dean, you're being selfish and you're distracting your brother. This has to be his choice. You've both fought the good fight. Now let go, and let be."

I thought about that a moment, in the distance I could hear Sam's heart, the beat grinding like a rusted out machine, then another heart, one I knew but couldn't place, beating strong and fierce. I looked at Sam's hurting face, and there was a sort of farewell shining in his eyes. Didn't my brother understand how much I loved him? Needed him.

"Nuuu, Gggggaaaam." I fought to break free of the tape and invisible hold Buffet had on me.

I wasn't friggin' letting go of anything. Wasn't going anywhere. Sam wasn't staying here. Not without me. I concentrated hard on moving my arms so I could peel the tape off, but nothing happened. Unable to do a damn thing, I growled once again at Buffet.

"You're a good kid, Dean." Buffet picked his coconut shell up out of the sand, and scooted back in his chair to relax. "Stubborn as hell, but good. It's hard, I know, but for Sam to have peace the choice must be his." He took a sip of his drink. "And you, son, you need to learn how to wait your turn," he said with that annoying laid-back, no worries sort of tone. "Say the right word, Dean." The same gust of wind that brought the tape slapping to my mouth, returned, ripping it away.

"Ugh," I screeched in pain. I wasn't saying crap. "I'm not saying crap you fr - Shazam!"

/~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~/

I jerked awake. Where was I now. Inside a friggin' orange? I glanced dizzily around. Orange curtains flapped about in an open window. An orange carpet was littered with equally orange towels, and I was sitting on an orange bedspread.

"I've been praying." Came a solemn voice. "I didn't know if you could hear me."

"Son of a bitch, I said the word." A clock on the wall tick-tocked and I heard someone's labored, shallow breathing.

I swallowed hard, suddenly knowing exactly who the voice belonged to and where I was. Hesitantly, I turned to the bed next to me, afraid of what I might find, and for good reason. Sam had deteriorated a lot since I'd last seen him. He still lay stretched out on his back, unrelaxed, sheets lumpy and wrinkled, moppy hair brushed off to one side, arms stiff, fingertips hooked and contorted.

Cas sat in a bedside chair, gently washing Sam's face with a cloth. "He may not be here with us much longer."

"What happened?" I asked, unable to move.

Cas wouldn't look at me. "Sam is still comatose," Cas summed up what I already could see. "His seizures have finally stopped about an hour ago." Cas dipped the cloth back into a bowl of ice water sitting on a nightstand, and wrung the fabric out "Unfortunately, so did his heart on more than one occasion."

"Sam's heart?" My gaze slowly drifted over Sam, remembering the times I couldn't hear the beat while I was in Wonka's crazy factory.

Cas dripped water everywhere as he went back to wiping Sam's face.

"What did you do? How-did you - did you call 911?"

Cas dabbed at Sam's sunburn-red cheeks, then laid the washcloth to his forehead, holding it in place. "I did as you instructed." Cas nodded at the orange washcloth in his hand.

My eyes popped wide. "Sam's heart stopped beating, and you thought a cold compress would help!" That got my body moving. I scrambled off my bed, feet barely touching the floor as I flew the few inches to Sam's side and dropped to one knee on the bed beside him. "You're fired!" I blew up, shoving Cas's hand out of the away and taking over on the washcloth.

Cas finally looked up at me. "I told you, Dean, I am not a human doctor. Sam is still undecided, fighting, but his fever is extremely high."

I lay the back of my hand gently to the side of Sam's neck. Cas was right. Kid was burning with fever, the fast thump of Sam's heart against my knuckles, unnerving. "Shit, Sammy," I whispered, laying my other hand to his chest, his breathing shallow.

"Tell me what happened in there, Dean?"

"We ended up on that beach. Same beach our dad took us too when we were kids. Somehow some retired beach comber weaseled his way into Sam's mind. Told Sam things. Things -" I shuddered, Sam was still in there with him. "I think he might have been-" I bit down on my tongue, afraid to admit what I already knew.

Cas rested a hand on my shoulder. "Yes, the man on the beach. That is good, Dean."

"So you knew about him?"

"I suspected."

I heatedly shook Cas's hand from my shoulder. "And you didn't bother to tell me because -" I waited for an answer.

"Because I was not exactly sure, Dean, and it was not exactly my place. Sam needed you to lead him to the beach. But now it is up to Sam to decide. What is the phrase you humans like to use?" Cas paused. "You may lead a horse to water, but you can not force him to drink."

"Put Tabasco Sauce in his oats," I muttered sarcastically. "He'll drink." I picked up Sam's hand and gave a squeeze. "So that beach is Sam's heaven?"

Cas didn't answer.

"And Jimmy Buffet? He's the big G?" I pressed.

Cas looked confused.

"The big man upstairs, The Big Kahuna, Commander and Chief," I explained, shaking my head.

"You mean God?" Cas said the word with utmost reverence.

"Yhatzee."

"What you believe is only for you to decide, Dean."

More questions, that went unanswered. One thing I did know, and it killed me to admit, Cas was right. I realized the choice had to be Sam's. Tabasco Sauce in his oats, or not, if the kid didn't choose for himself, my baby brother would never find any balance or peace. In heaven, hell, or any other universe.

I stared at Sam a long time, following the weak rise and fall of his chest, wondering if he'd made his decision already. I didn't want Sam suffering anymore. I didn't want to bring him back to this world if that meant his condition was only going to be more of the same. Maybe it was time for me to let go.

"Hey buddy," I barely got the words past my lips. "It's been rough on you, I know, and I get it, Sammy. I do. I'm not saying I like it, but I get it." I squeezed Sam's hand harder, hoping for a response, but got none. "You need to do what you need to do, man, but if I were you, and you didn't want to come back here to me, I'd take that beach over hell. You deserve that much, Sam."

I lay his hand down to the bed, and sat back. There was nothing else I could do. Sam didn't move a muscle. I hung my head, hovering lower over him. I was going to lose my brother. But then I noticed something I hadn't before, and my despair turned to hope. The entire time I'd been back one small, simple thing had changed - Sam's eyes were closed.

Surprised, I pointed at Sam, looking to Cas. "His eyes are closed."

"Yes," Cas said solemnly.

I grabbed Cas by his fugly tie. "How long have his eyes been closed?" I yelled in his face, giving the fugly tie a hard jerk.

Cas just stared at me.

I cinched my hand up higher, ready to choke Cas with it if he didn't answer at least that question. "How long, Cas?" I demanded.

Castiel's eyes flicked to his bunched up tie, then back to me in a demanding, yet, hurt sort of way.

Sighing, I let loose my hold.

"About ten minutes before you woke up," Cas answered, smoothing the wrinkles out and adjusting the knot

"Ten minutes. Ten minutes," I said excitedly, feeling Sam's forehead. It was still warm, but I could tell his temperature had gone down several degrees. "His fever," I smiled at Cas, "It's starting to drop."

I picked up Sam's hand again and right away his hooked fingers relaxed and twitched. Sam had chosen to come back. I was sure of it. "Sam," I bent back over him expectantly. "Sammy." He responded to my voice, by turning his head away from me. "Hey, bro," I ran my fingers through his hair. "Over here."

"Mmmm," Sam moaned, turning toward me this time, lower lip quivering.

"That's it. You got it, Sammy." I lay a hand to his forehead and held it there feeling the fever drop with each passing second. "This is your wake up call, Sam." I lay a hand to his cheek. "No hitting snooze, lazy bitch."

Sam groaned again, shifting his legs. For a second I glanced over at Cas, who now stood across the room, looking out the window. He was whispering something that sounded like a prayer, the setting sun streaking through the window illuminating him. I've witnessed a lot of things in my life, but a miracle never was one of them - until now.

Sam moaned and I brought my attention back to him. "On three, Sam, open your eyes." I took a deep breath and counted very slowly. "One."

Sam's tongue lazily poked out to lick his lips.

"Two."

His eyes wildly shifted back and forth, under closed lids.

"Three," I said loud and clear.

Sam let out a long sigh, his hot breath breezing across my face, but his eye remained closed. "Three, Sam, I said three." I placed a hand to his chest and jiggled him gently. "Three, dude."

Sam suddenly came out of it. His eyes opened and he stared straight at me. But not with that empty, blank, dead stare from before, his eyes were clear and following my every move.

I excitedly bounced up and down on the bed. "Oh, man. Oh, God. That's my boy. That's my boy." I clasped Sam's face between both hands. "You're with me, Sam. You're back with me now."

"He will be okay. You both will. Be at peace." The sound of fluttering wings told me Sam and I were alone now, and we probably wouldn't see Cas again - in this life anyway.

"You remember what happen?" I anxiously asked.

Sam turned his head, slowly taking in the room. His mouth twisted, and he took a couple minutes too long to answer me.

"Sam?" I frowned at the dark rings of purple that rimmed his eyes.

"Ummm." Sam gathered his breath, then rasped, "Either I tied one on negotiating my life over a coconut shell," he said in a small voice, "Or-or the wall came down."

"The wall came down," I said, seeing he was still a bit fuzzy, "And…"

"And I was lost inside myself -" Sam gathered another breath. "Inside hell. We found the beach. He, you…"

I could read Sam like a book and he did, he remembered every detail. Though, I couldn't help but wonder what details I'd missed out on, after I Shazamed myself out of his over-sized, mushy head.

"D'n," Sam's breath hitched.

"Sam, easy, you need to just rest now. We'll talk later."

"You- you came for me."

"No matter what," I guaranteed. "I'll always come for you." I slipped a hand under his head and raised him off the pillow and hugged him against me.

"You'll never have to- have to come looking for me again. Prom-promise," Sam breathed out.

"Why did you choose to come back to me, Sammy?" I had to know. Was Sam truly back or was I getting out the handcuffs and Tabasco Sauce.

"Because you've always given me everything Dean, and the only way- the only way I can ever thank you… repay you," Sam brought a shaky hand up between us and pressed it to my chest, right over my heart. "Is to forgive myself."

I could tell how much it was taking out of Sam to talk, and he was already fading. I tightened my hug, even though I knew it was sleep taking Sam from me this time, and not hell. Still, I wasn't taking any chances.

"You're my-my brother, Dean," Sam said just before he fell sound asleep, his chin lightly coming to rest on my shoulder.

I could feel Sam's heart thumping against my chest. A sound I'd latched onto before the kid was even born. A sound that belonged to me, comforted me, made me whole. Beat after beat, I listened, until both our hearts were synchronized, and I fell asleep, holding Sam all through the night.

The end.

/~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~/

**Epilogue….**

He sat barefoot in the sand, his younger brother next to him. They'd done their job. What they were born to do. Had saved countless people. Killed countless evil things. They'd fought the good fight, side- by-side all the way, until it was time to choose.

The setting sun was a shock of pink and bright orange reaching across the sky. Rhythmic waves washed in and out over his bare toes, crabs floundering in the surf and bouncing about on the waves like some sort of beach rodeo.

The wind was warm as a spa, salty and welcoming as sea spray dotted his face. Though there was no beach blond Barbie anywhere in sight, the moment was unspoiled and perfect.

Looking out to sea, several sleek dolphins broke free of the water, splashing back down, their tails slapping the sea and propelling themselves back under the surf. Moments later, they blasted acrobatically back skyward, twisting and dancing playfully.

A dark silhouette trotted out of the water towards them - the shadow he walked in - huge.

"Great day to be alive, hey, boys." He wiggled in-between the two of them, reaching his arms around both and clapping his hand to their shoulders. "If this is just a dream - he pulled the boys tighter to his side. "We get to live it together."

Northerly winds ruffled the canvas of a sailing ship that bobbed out on the horizon.

The ocean and wind sounded like the roar of a gun, but didn't drown the sound of a heartbeat. How often he'd heard it. How well he knew the sound. Looking to his family he breathed in.

He would easily stay here forever, and forever he would.

The 'blah' end


End file.
